


Gift From Hell

by corvusdraconis, Dragon_and_the_Rose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Demons, Gen, Multi, Polyamory, Vampires, hellfiends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:20:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 53,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26522041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvusdraconis/pseuds/corvusdraconis, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_and_the_Rose/pseuds/Dragon_and_the_Rose
Summary: Sanguini/SS/HG: AU: Hermione finally gets a seeing-eye dog after all the others were afraid of her. (M for reasons)
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Sanguini, Hermione Granger/Severus Snape, Hermione Granger/Severus Snape/Sanguini
Comments: 143
Kudos: 367





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Sanguini/SS/HG: AU: Hermione finally gets a seeing-eye dog after all the others were afraid of her. (M for reasons)

 **Beta Love:** I'm publishing unsupervised! Hrm, DeepShadows2 found me. Dragon and the Rose did too! (Hrm, not so secret anymore), the chronically overworked Dutchgirl01 who may or may not exist on this plane of existence, and Flyby Commander Shepherd

 **Warning:** Probably crack.

This story had its own mind. It will not be like the others in that it will contain a relationship that includes more than just SSHG. If that is not your thing, please wait for another story that is.

* * *

**Gift From Hell**

_There is nothing truer in this world than the love of a good dog._

_**Mira Grant** _

* * *

She'd been on the waitlist for a service dog for months, but every time they'd bring one over, the dog would start whining and growling and pulling the people out of the house as if a dog possessed.

Hermione had pretty much given up hope on getting one both in the Muggle or magical world.

Hagrid had attempted to give her Fang, but the old boarhound was frightened when thunder clapped miles away, so he was pretty darned useless as a service-animal.

The boys hadn't been by in weeks, and she figured that was about guilt more than anything else. They'd been the ones who had brought work "home" with them to their Saturday suppers. Ron had been tracing out the glyphs he'd seen on an amulet right on her dining room table, so when she put the plate of food down—

She had woken up in St Mungo's in total darkness, and it had been constant darkness that had followed her ever since.

Oh, and Ron's amulet was embedded into her sternum as well.

Yeah, thanks for that.

Hermione cricked her neck back and forth and sighed as her fingers ran over her countertop and found her pitcher. She felt for her tumbler, thumped it on the counter a few times to make sure she wasn't going to drink down a spider or something, placed her finger on the lip of the glass, and filled it with water until it hit her finger.

She put down the pitcher and drank, smacking her lips as she evaluated whether she felt satisfied or not.

She set down the glass, flipping it upside down so she wouldn't get unwanted interlopers in it, and felt her way around the counter to the old Chesterfield that she loved so much, pondering if she was going to listen to music, read, or just be a vegetable for the rest of the night.

She was leaning towards being a vegetable, feeling very uninclined towards much of anything but brooding. Her hand traced over the book Ginny had brought her over, feeling the grooves in the tooled leather of the cover. It had been a thoughtful gift, she knew, but Ginny hadn't realised Hermione's true predicament due to a few omissions on Harry and Ron's part.

Hermione wasn't entirely helpless, despite feeling so at times, but when Ginny had come over thinking everything was fine only to realise things were most definitely _not_ fine, there had been a bit of a— discussion.

Ginny, as usual, had two modes: hot and volcanic, and she'd spewed like Mount Vesuvius all over until Hermione was sure her entire home was on fire.

One, Hermione got yelled at for not saying anything, to which Hermione had replied that considering who she was married to, she'd thought logically Harry would have told her. That only got her even more upset, and Hermione had to listen to her spew vitriol all over again.

Two, Ginny yelled at her for not asking for help, to which Hermione could only explain she'd seen countless healers and even Muggle doctors to determine what was possible as treatment. That, of course, just caused another eruption about that "not being the kind of help she meant!"

Hermione could only sit on her poor Chesterfield and listen to her friend flail about and generally vent her frustrations to her captive audience.

When all was said and done, Hermione provided tea, and all was well again, and Ginny fixed all the things she had thrown around and broke during her epic fit of temper. Hermione had a feeling that Ginny was going to thoroughly ream her husband and brother and give them what for, but she was glad it wasn't going to be in her poor abused house.

Hermione sighed, running her fingers over the old leather, taking in the pleasing scent. It smelled old—

" _I don't know what book it is," Ginny had confessed. "I mean, it's in some language I don't even know, but it just screamed Hermione, right? I'm hoping that— well, even if you don't like it, it looks really nice and— fuck, I'm so sorry Hermione!"_

Hermione took in the scent of the book and smiled. It _did_ smell comforting with its parchment, leather, and ink scent.

Before she knew it she was asleep, the book cradled in her arms like a cherished plush toy.

* * *

_Lick._

_Whine._

_Lick, lick._

_Whine._

Hermione woke to the sensation of the sun on her face and—

_Lick._

Being licked.

Hermione held her hands out and met warm, soft fur.

"Oh, hello," she said with a little confusion. "Did Maryanne find a dog for me?"

The beat of a tail smacked against the side of the Chesterfield, and she smiled. She felt around the dog's face and ears, thankful that service animals for the blind were trained to be used to such inspections.

"Maryanne? Are you here?" she called, listening for the sound of the woman using the loo or perhaps strolling around in the garden.

Nothing.

How strange. Maybe she was busy with work and didn't want to bother her—

She felt around for a harness, but instead found the dog had some kind of odd bumps on its back, kind of like spikes. It didn't seem to hurt the animal, so she wasn't worried that it was some sort of accident, but she did find them rather curious.

She felt around for the collar and name tag, but there was nothing.

"Did you lose your nametag?" she asked.

The dog made a sour _garruf_ sound, and she chuckled. "It's okay. I'm glad you're here. I wonder if you have a name."

The dog didn't answer, but she stood and walked over to the charmed food cabinet she had made to look like a regular Muggle fridge. Her entire house had looked very Muggle down to the timepieces, but only magicals would have realised she wasn't running the place on electricity, and even then they would most likely believe she was living fully Muggle just to keep the Muggles from being suspicious.

The technomagery, as she had come to know it, had been taught by a very unexpected teacher and master of the art. The art was so advanced and secretive that even most magicals didn't know it existed. The common belief was that Muggle science did not blend with magic in any way. It was, however wrong, the common truth that "everyone" knew.

Sworn to the art and now her own master, it seemed very natural, and it was in the art itself to make it seem utterly natural to both magicals and Muggles. Magicals would think it was utterly mundane and Muggle. Muggles would think her things were just technology as they knew it. The art was wonderfully subtle and complex— something she had loved from the very start.

A quick knock on the door caused the dog to growl, but Hermione hushed him with a gentle check. "Visitors are rare, and the knocking ones even more so."

The dog whinged but seemed to settle.

She made her way to the door and opened it. The scent of ancient places wafted in and she smiled. "Come in, Master," she said with a smile. "Out of the sun."

The man's chuckle was warm and fluid. "Thank you, my dear, but you are your own master now, Hermione."

"Well you will always be mine, Master." Hermione sniffed, head tilted up.

"Fair," he replied as he walked in, the scent of him moving past her. "But you of all people may use my name."

"Which one?" Hermione said cheekily. "You have so many."

"Tsk, child, do not be flippant," he said with no heat. "Sanguini is probably the most common of the names, or you may call me Mihail— the name I was born with so very long ago."

Hermione smiled despite herself. "I think I like Mihail. It's fitting. It feels like your name."

"You, my dear, are one of the few who feel names— the sound and the music, the tone and the song. Few people say any of my names as they are. It is no wonder they both use spells and give insults so easily. To hear my name upon your lips, Hermione, is more of a gift than you know."

Hermione heard the dog growl as her master moved into the house. She closed the door and waved her hand over a plate near the wall, and the room became cooler as the sun was blocked out. "It used to bother me when I accidentally shaded the house, but now everything is black, it actually feels cooler and more comfortable."

Sanguini chuckled. "Your living cells thank you," he said. "For not condemning them to sizzle and burn in the sun."

"I will hardly combust, Master," Hermione said. "Nor will you, despite what tradition says." She paused, taking a deep breath. "Mihail."

The vampire chuckled. "It is still uncomfortable to feel yourself sizzling in the sun, my dear. No matter the sun cream, it has always been so."

Hermione smiled. "What brings you to my humble home?"

"Cannot an old friend visit?" Sanguini asked, chuckling.

"Now, we both know you are usually neck-deep in drama from the unfortunate one who was Turned during puberty of all times."

Hermione sat down on the old Chesterfield and the dog hopped up and nestled against her, his head on her lap. She pet his ears affectionately.

"There are rules against such things for a reason," Sanguini said with a huff. "You preserve the essence of a person when you Turn them, and if they are not ready and mature enough or gods forbid stable enough—"

He sighed heavily.

"You may have no real idea what a great thing you did for us on your crusade to free the elves, liberate the goblins, and see to it that everyone is being treated like intelligent rational beings. My people gained their autonomy back from under the Ministry's bootheel— in public at least— and you have so many allies amongst the Sânge that I had to fight for the honour of apprenticing you. Because of you, I can deal with the Turned child before things end up going very, very badly. It is not something that humans can usually stomach. Such— brutality to what they would consider an innocent. But to leave one such as him alive— it would be folly, and hundreds would die to his whim and hunger with no chance of reason. And you have given us that ability to check ourselves again, and that is something the Sânge will not ever forget."

Hermione smiled. "I had no idea that you fought for me."

Sanguini harrumphed. "The heroine of a war, a survivor, a powerful witch— that alone would have turned heads, but," he said, chuckling, "you were far more than they had originally thought. And the Sânge have known magics of all sorts since darkness and fire met. It was only finding the one I knew would challenge you and entice you under my wings."

The dog growled lowly, and Hermione gently placed a hand between his ears. "Hey, for once, the dog isn't growling and snarling at me," she said with some amusement.

"You have spent a lot of time with the Sânge, Hermione. It tends to rub off. You have my Mark that keeps you from being casually targeted, and you have the Mark of the Sânge Council, which definitely puts you on a do not disturb list when it comes to supernatural manoeuvring. Alas, it can make the more natural animal quite leery. They may not know _why_ they are uncomfortable, but they know you are different."

"Natural, normal things will tend to shun you, pet," Sanguini said seriously. "Supernatural things, however, will find you far more interesting."

"To think, I had no idea that dinner you took me to was with the bloody Sânge Council, Mihail," Hermione said sternly before laughing. "I can laugh about it now, but you could give a witch some warning before doing that? I felt like I'd just insulted a hundred generations of royalty all at once."

"Ah, and where would the fun be in that, love?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, hoping that Sanguini would see it— or that he was even looking in her general direction.

"They were impressed by you, pet. Believe that," Sanguini said. "The fact you did not cow to Radu's posturing or Mircea's attempt to make you look lesser gained you only respect. They've been getting away with such posturing for centuries and no one other than you has had the balls to tell them that their shite stinks."

"So you had me do it?" Hermione cried, crossing her arms.

"Better from you, love, than all the vampires of this side of the ocean. Immortals forget what the true spark of life is sometimes, and those like you remind them of what they've forgotten. There are very few of us, you see, that keep such passions for when we were Turned— passion was hardly the reason that most of us were given immortality."

"And what is your reason for being Turned?" Hermione asked.

"For me? Influence," Sanguini said, his voice a purr. "They said, back in the day, I could convince a snake to part with its skin."

"And now?" Hermione asked, chuckling.

"Well, the change in times has hardly altered the fine art of persuasion. The topics have changed, the things people want specifically, but the general art is the same. Names change over time, but really it is all the same in the end."

"Is that why you're the ambassador to the vampires at the Ministry?"

Sanguini laughed. "Yes. That the fact that I happen to look less like death warmed over than most."

"Speak for yourself," Hermione muttered.

"Tch, my heart. It truly bleeds," Sanguini said, and Hermione could hear him putting his hand to his chest.

Hermione blew a puff of air at her hair, aiming for a stray curl that was tickling her eyebrow.

Thunder rumbled, and a strong gust of wind blew open the shutters.

"Oh bother," Hermione muttered, standing up and dislodging her new dog. She felt her way around the Chesterfield and the nearby table and lamp, then worked her way to where the wind was rattling the shutter.

"Feels like it's less spontaneous combustion weather, Master. Would you like to go outside? My new dog-friend may also appreciate a chance to relieve himself. Or herself. I haven't checked yet, how embarrassing."

"Hermione—" he chided.

"Mihail?" Hermione said sheepishly.

Sanguini chuckled. "It would be nice to sit outside and not feel like fire ants are eating me, yes."

They walked outside into the garden, and Hermione touched a small tile to float a water pitcher in from inside along with some lemons and a knife. She sliced the lemons carefully and threw them into the pitcher to infuse with the water.

The dog bounded off into the garden to do his business, and Hermione heard him digging about with abandon and then rolling around in the grass.

Hermione smiled as she heard the dog groaning in pleasure as the grass and dirt saturated the air enough to reach her nose.

"You never answered what you were doing here, Master," Hermione observed. "Humour me."

Sanguini sighed. "That thing on you is not simply a cursed object, Hermione."

Hermione frowned, sitting up. "What is it then?"

"It is an ancient artefact meant to call upon Dark powers— daemonic powers— bringing such a creature to this world be at the beck and call of the one who wore it." Sanguini's voice was terribly soft. "But the oldest stories claim that something went wrong in its creation. It summoned the power, yes, but— it took something until the bond was made. The completion of the contract. The surrender of one's self to the other, so the other could do the same. Those who want such power do not want to give in or come to terms in such a way. They want the power. They would have rather killed hundreds and gained a demon under their thrall than surrender to one in symbiosis."

"Symbiosis with a demon?" Hermione asked. "Is there such a thing?"

Sanguini huffed. "Just as there are different humans, vampires, and werewolves, there are different demons as well. But the most powerful of them must always watch their backs for the next interloper. Some of them, rather than suffer that roam free. The allure of a symbiosis with someone who would never betray them is— like the tastiest and riches of creams."

"But power relationships are rarely about— peaceful coexistence," Hermione said.

"Mmhm," Sanguini said. "You, pet, are being evaluated for a partnership."

"With a demon."

"A greater power than most. Whatever we call it. God, demon, artichoke— really have little meaning but is something better to say than simply babbling incoherently."

"So, this blindness is a— test?"

Sanguini hummed. "More like a," he paused, sighing. "What is the word? Bother, and I'm supposed to be an ambassador."

Hermione smiled. "Nobody is perfect."

Sanguini bahed. "You are a beacon, Hermione. You are a lighthouse. The supernatural will flock around you, basking in your potential, wanting, needing to be with you. Until you accept a bond, they will keep courting you, hoping to be the one you choose."

Hermione sipped at the lemon water, her brows knitting together. "And I am supposed to do this— blind?"

"Hn," Sanguini said. "Yes."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "And here all I wanted for the last few months was a service dog that didn't want to either run from me or attack me."

The dog wedged his head under her arm and encouraged petting of his head.

Hermione chuckled, petting the canine with a smile.

"What does he look like, Mihail?" Hermione asked.

"Like your mail carrier might never survive meeting your new friend."

Hermione huffed. "He's perfectly well-behaved."

 _Wuff_ , the canine agreed.

"I can practically feel your eyebrows rising, Master," Hermione said.

"He's a hellfiend."

"What?" Hermione's voice was toneless.

"Multiple tails, horns, a few tentacles, elongated muzzle filled with unnaturally huge sharp teeth— well he is dog shaped, at least."

Hermione was still petting the hound's ears. "Well, he seems like a perfectly decent hellfiend."

 _Wuff_ , the beast agreed.

"As hellfiends go, I'm sure he's quite a looker," Sanguini acquiesced.

"I like him," Hermione said. "I don't even have to see him to like him."

The dog snorted, glowering at Sanguini.

"As long as he doesn't mind wearing a harness for going out in public, he's ages ahead of those other pups who wouldn't even give me a trial run."

The dogs multiple tails wagged wildly, creating a breeze.

"At least allow me to create a glamour collar for him, Hermione," Sanguini said. "I don't imagine you taking him into the supermarket would go over very well. Hell, what would your parents say?"

"Probably about what they'd say if they met _you_ , Master— well, on a bad night when you're very hungry."

Sanguini sighed heavily. "Quite probably." He shrugged, brushing his hands over his sleeves. "Do you have a collar for him?"

Hermione nodded, tracing a sigil in the air just before a collar and harness set slammed into her outreaching hand. "I hope it's the right size— I'm not sure I can resize very well with not being able to see him properly."

"I'll take care of it," Sanguini said.

"Has he told you his name?"

Hermione frowned. "No."

"Well, I can't very well write 'Dog' on it as his name."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "What colour is he?"

"Black at pitch."

"Does he look— intimidating?"

"Very," Sanguini replied dryly.

"Eye colour?"

"Pitch black as the rest of him."

Hermione pondered, her hand never leaving the dog's head. She started to grin evilly.

"I _know_ that look, child. What are you thinking?"

"How about Snape?"

The hellfiend's ears perked at once. _Brou?_

"Well, he's all black, and he's so intimidating. It's fitting!" Hermione protested.

"Snape" gave her a gentle lick on the cheek with a forked tongue and a few wily tentacles.

"See? He likes it."

"Whatever you say, child," Sanguini said as he passed her the glamour collar and harness. "He will look like— a very stern-looking guard dog of some sort. At least doggish enough to not make the mail carrier piss himself in terror, nor will he be fluffy and attract stupid people that want to hug him."

Snape growled lowly.

"See? He agrees."

"What if _I_ want to hug him?" Hermione said, mock-pouting.

"I'm sure he will allow it as long as it is you."

_Browl._

"What _is_ a hellfiend anyway?"

Sanguini was silent for a while. "Some say they are simply daemons locked in a bestial shape until their conjurer orders them to be otherwise."

"But I didn't conjure him," Hermione said.

"Uncharted territory, pet," Sanguini soothed. "It's hard to say what he is capable of, but— he does seem quite devoted to you already."

Sanguini said nothing, but he watched as Hermione's expression seemed far off as she pet her hellish canine, her eyes fluttering as he licked her other hand in what would have seemed a comforting way had it not been a hellfiend that was doing it.

"So, how does one even accept such a bargain?" Hermione asked. "I have a feeling it isn't like a parchment contract signed in blood like they say in Faust."

"Doubtful," Sanguini agreed, "but also unknown. This is an artefact, whose entire nature may have been tweaked and adjusted by some witch or wizard as far back as the Dark Ages, perhaps even older. Back when getting power over another was so important that they didn't really pay heed to matters such as possible consequences or beneficial long term relationships. Many believed the soul wasn't something that could be bartered, so they bound themselves to contracts thinking one can't lose what one cannot be parted from. Not exactly the brightest bunch."

Hermione shook her head. "So, let me get this straight. Ronald brings home an ancient artefact of daemonic origin, traces the runes on my dining room table, and bonds it to me— somehow— completely by accident."

Sanguini was silent for a time. "Yes."

"Sheer dumb luck, indeed," Hermione muttered.

"He thought it was a puzzle locket," Hermione suddenly said, recalling. "They'd scanned it with the standard identification spells, and it hadn't so much as flickered to indicate that it was of magical origin."

"Wrong kind of magic, I fear," Sanguini said. "Much like our technomagery. If you don't know precisely what you are looking for, it never even comes up."

Hermione finished putting the harness on Snape and rubbed his head and ears affectionately. "Thank you for tolerating me," she said warmly.

 _Wuff_.

Hermione smiled as she found herself under attack by multiple fond licks.

Sanguini had to smile as he realised it had been a while since he'd seen her smile so openly. Perhaps whatever odd fate had been at work was actually something that was meant to be.

* * *

"Blimey 'Mione!" Ron blurted as he stood outside the garden fence.

Snape was snarling at him from the other side, foam flecking his muzzle.

Hermione stood in the doorway to her house. "Ron? What are you doing here?"

"I can't visit?" Ron protested.

"Most people would call or send an owl before just showing up!"

"When the hell did you get a dog!"

"It's my service dog, Ronald," Hermione said, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Did you have to get the most vicious and intimidating service dog?" Ron squeaked.

"He's not vicious," Hermione said, making a clicking sound.

The hound bounded back to her, shoving his head under her hand. She hugged him, allowing his licks and somewhat sulfurous breath to the face.

"Oh so you're not arguing that he's intimidating?"

"No, that everyone seems to agree on," Hermione said, smiling as her pup's heated breath made her smile.

"Can I come in now?" Ron asked, flustered.

"Yes, you can come in," Hermione said, shaking her head as she retreated back into the cooler house.

Ron stared at the dog with unease.

The dog seemed to scowl at him, lips curling up from its very sharp teeth.

"Come on, Snape, let's get you some food," Hermione called, and the dog bounded inside, tail wagging.

Ron warily opened the gate and came in. He was all the way inside the house before something hit him. "Snape?!" he blurted.

Hermione put a bowl of food down for the dog and cocked her head at him. "Yes?"

"You named your bloody dog 'Snape'?"

"He's big, black from what my master said, brilliant, and perfectly terrifying. It's well suited."

The dog vacuumed up the food in a few minutes, licked the bowl clean, and then picked it up between his jaws and nudged her leg.

Hermione felt around until she found the bowl in his jaws and took it. "Thank you, love."

The dog looked up at her adoringly, tail thumping.

"That's just not right, Mione."

Hermione washed the bowl and set it in the drying rack as Snape thumped a paw on a lever, and his water bowl filled with fresh clean water. He eagerly lapped the bowl clean and then stood waiting. Hermione felt for his harness, and he guided her over to the old Chesterfield. She sat down, patting the cushion, and Snape jumped up and settled with his head in her lap, tail thumping with approval.

Ron looked at her with horror and then realised with guilt that the only one noticing was the dog, and the dog had a very— well, Snapeish expression on its face. His eyes were narrowed, and he wore a scowl that made him feel like he was eleven in Potions class.

Worse, those eyes never left him, and Ron felt like reciting his sins from when he was a child dating all the way back to his nappy age.

"It's kind of stuffy in here," Hermione said. "I had the shutters closed because there was this cat trying its best to beat up another cat and the noise bothered me."

She stood, and Snape went with her, guiding her to the window. She felt around until she found the latch and opened the shutters to let in some fresh air. She sniffed appreciatively. "Better."

"So what brings you to my home, Ron? There must be something because you never visit."

Ron shifted uncomfortably under Hermione's blind stare. She tracked him somehow, her eyes staring right into him despite her blindness. She tugged on Snape's harness and they moved forward. He guided her around the lamp, counter, and the coffee table so she could sit back on the Chesterfield.

"Look, I'm sorry for bringing that thing here into your home," Ron said. "I want to try and remove it."

"Ronald, St Mungos, the Department of Mysteries, and the Goblin Nation tried to remove this thing. I don't think whatever you are going to try is going to work," she said with a wrinkled expression.

"At least let me help you in the house."

"Ronald," Hermione said sternly. "I'm fine. I'm doing fine. Now that Snape is here, I'm doing even better."

Snape licked his chops, and Ron could have sworn he saw a cloud of smoke exit its mouth. "Hermione, can you at least let me _try?_ I'm the reason it's there, and maybe it has to be me that takes it off."

Hermione's expression darkened. "I am fine, Ronald. I don't want you making things worse, and with your particular track record, the chances of it ending up worse rather than better is astronomical."

Ron frowned. "Come on, Mione, please? You have no idea how much flak I've been catching from everyone about being the one who cursed his girlfriend—"

Hermione stiffened. "How dare you."

"Wut?"

"How _dare_ you call me that after— you deliberately sabotaged my masteries so that only Master Sanguini would take me on because you thought a real witch should stay at home making babies and tending the house. How _dare_ you call me that after how many witches you've shoved your cock in over the years! Don't even _try_ to deny it. Even in the— how _exactly_ did you put it— 'arsehole of the leeches' I had people who kept me in the know about what was going on. As I was working so hard on fighting for the rights of house-elves, goblins, and vampires, you stood there and belittled me. Said I was foolish because I could have just married you and not had to worry about anything. How _**DARE**_ you—"

Hermione was standing up, and so was her hair. It writhed like the reptilian coils of Medusa herself, and her eyes seemed to glow with an eerie light. She snapped her hand up and then down, and her wand came to her beck and call with a smack. "I may be blind now, Ronald Bilius Weasley, but I was not blind while you were shoving your cock into any random witch who cooed your name and called you a hero. I may have still called you my friend after everything you did because that was what we were _supposed_ to be, but we were never truly that."

Her wand had turned into a walking cane, and she slammed it down so the red tip smashed into the ground, and the house shook violently as it responded to her call.

Snape was standing on all fours now and growling menacingly, his hackles raised up like spikes. His dog-like shape seemed to shimmer and fade in and out into an image of the most hellish of nightmares made form.

Ron's eyes were now almost comically wide, but even as Hermione stood there glaring at him, he spotted the glowing amulet embedded in her chest.

That was the source of his ongoing ridicule at work—

Ron hurriedly cast the spell he had written on his arm, aiming his wand at the glowing amulet even as the dog snarled and launched itself at him—

" _ **Evanescunt Ligaturam Cucurreris!**_ " he yelled, and the spell struck Hermione's chest, hitting the glowing stone dead on.

Hermione shrieked, and there was an earth-shaking thunderclap and a yelp as something very large hit the far wall. The room was filled with the swirling dark of the Abyss as the stench of burning flesh and brimstone filled the room.

Everything went black.

As Ron began to see again, he made out the towering shape of—

Of—

He wasn't even sure what he was looking at.

It was _big_.

Its massive head touched the ceiling.

Its wings were shoved up against the opposing walls.

It— _his_ cock was both proud and erect with no attempt to cover or in any way conceal its size or presence.

The daemon growled, licking its multiple rows of jagged teeth even as its talons ever so gently caressed Hermione's face. He tucked her onto the chesterfield as it stomped one cloven hoof against the floor with a clack.

"You must be a god's own fool," the creature chuckled. "To attack a summoner at all is sheer folly. To attack one who has yet to make her Choice is even greater folly. What kind of idiot attacks one who has but the choice of millions to bind her power with— who would gladly bind with her to walk the wretched Earth together?"

The daemon smiled. "You must be a gormless fish. Perhaps, you are better off looking like what you are," he seethed, pointing a talon at Ron. A beam of darkness hit Ron squarely in the middle of his forehead, and Ron rapidly shrank and turned into a gasping orange guppy.

The demon snapped his fingers, and the guppy was thrown into a small bowl shaped and decorated to look like a burning hellscape.

The daemon turned back to Hermione, who was still unconscious. He slowly passed his talons over her, frowning. "Ahh, little summoner. You are a true treasure amongst mortals." He reached out and caressed her head and hair. "If you were to choose me, what wonders we could create together."

The demon lowered its head to hers. "Such power we would have. Such freedom."

Suddenly, a darker cloud of wrath, fangs, claws, and protective fury landed on the larger demon. The larger demon roared, but where it swiped and attempted to attack, the smaller was faster and more fierce. Daemonic magic surged and crackled, seethed and burned—

_**Boom!** _

The larger demon disappeared in a plume of darkness back into the Earth.

Snape shook himself off from nose to tail tip, dripping with dark energy and darker ichor. He limped over to Hermione and jumped up onto the chesterfield and snuggled into her, shoving his head under her arm and hand.

A seething sort of darkness exuded from his body, surrounding her, exploring her from his body to hers. Yet, Hermione pulled closer to his body with a content sigh.

Snape's multiple tails thumped against the chesterfield in a steady beat.

* * *

Hermione found herself surrounded in piles of crumpled parchments as the familiar and intimidating figure of her Potions professor slaved over a desk, his quill working furiously. The room was dimly lit, save for the flickering of candles, and the shutters were securely drawn.

Snape looked like death warmed over, the weariness in his body seemed to hang about him like a heavy curtain of exhaustion.

Hermione approached cautiously, waiting to be yelled at, but Snape didn't look up. She frowned and tried to pick up one of the crumpled pieces of paper, but her hand passed right through it.

Was this a dream?

Wait. She could see—

It _had_ to be a dream.

But— why was she dreaming of Professor Snape?

Yet when she saw what the man was writing, her curiosity filled to bursting, she reeled back in shock.

It was a letter to her.

* * *

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_If you are reading this, I have most likely met a sticky end. I cannot say I did not deserve it playing two sides of a war, but I cannot help but think had I never heard that prophecy so long ago, that much of this would have been different._

_In my last will and testament, I leave you all that I have, though it is not much, I fear. Most of it is a treasure suitable only for those who can read. My savings, while not terribly exorbitant, could very well make certain that you are well provided for should you wish to pursue a mastery._

_I have enclosed with this letter, a letter of recommendation. You may use it as you wish, when you apply for whatever mastery appeals. I have no doubt you will succeed in any field you wish— even potions, Miss Granger._

_While I was not permitted to encourage or be kind, you had more talent than the lot of them, and while you could not beat Mr Potter while he was using my old book to cheat his way to the top, had you been encouraged, I think you would have surpassed them all._

_One thing I would have you know, whether you choose to believe it or not, is that Albus Dumbledore was not a scion of Light and promise. He was a manipulator of the highest order, and the only thing that kept him from being the next Dark Lord was that a long time ago his sister was killed when he and Grindlewald had an argument on a far away beach somewhere._

_He kept his secrets close. He kept me as close as he could to pull my chain, my Oath, my promise— my penance for having told the Dark Lord the prophecy. But think very hard, Miss Granger, on how a man as brilliant and insightful could have not known I was there listening— a young boy with so little to lose and so much to gain scraping at the inn door to listen on a rising coot who just happened to give a real prophecy that night._

_I ran and told like a good little Death Eater in training, and it bought me a brand that I wear to this day. Then, when I realised my folly, the only one I could turn to was waiting to bind me to his service— for after I did, well, there was nothing he could do to save them since they made their own bad choices._

_He couldn't have said something._

_Convinced them they were in danger, no._

_I digress._

_I give you everything I was, Miss Granger, in the hopes that you alone can appreciate the collection of parchments and tomes I have hoarded over the years, both Muggle and magical. And I give you my monetary gains in the hopes you can forgive me for so many things I had to do._

_I will admit, I am not a nice man. I was never a nice teacher. Had times been different, I would have taken you on as my apprentice and made sure you were the best bloody Potions mistress on this side of the pond, but it was not to be._

_Albus was adamant that doing so would ruin everything._

_So he pulled my chain again, and bade me to heel._

_Don't think I didn't notice you setting me on fire, Miss Granger. Stealing my potion ingredients. Brewing polyjuice in your second year._

_Had I been able to cultivate that talent— what a reckoning you would have been._

_Whatever you decide to do with my property, Miss Granger, I can only hope there is something in my collections that will remind you not of the terrible person I was to your face but the man I wish I could have been._

_And if you can find it in your heart to believe me, I have but one request to make of you._

_When I was your age, my best friend from childhood believed me to be the very worst of people. She believed me to be a Death Eater before I was even a real one. I called her a foul name while I was being strung up by my ankles and had my mouth washed out with soap. She never forgave me, and when I tried to apologise, she cursed me to live eternally with the Dark I loved so much._

_If I loved the Dark and wanted to be the Dark Lord's lapdog, then I could roam the world on four legs like the dog I was for all eternity unless some "stupid gullible twat actually had the capacity to love someone as utterly worthless" as me._

_Perhaps, you know this already being the well-read individual that you are, but intent and emotion can twist our magic to something beyond our control. A curse in words becomes a spell, and it did not matter that she may not have meant it, though I highly suspect she did._

_I have a feeling that, upon my death, I will not be permitted to rest. I can feel that in my very bones._

_Amongst my items there will be an amulet. It has a green stone with runes carved into the metal that houses it. I have altered it to allow you to find me, and I beg you, Miss Granger, to put me out of my misery. I have no idea how, but I have faith that you will manage to figure it out. If anyone can counter a vicious spell from an angry seventeen-year-old witchling, it would be you._

_The amulet is a relic of a time when daemons and men walked together, Miss Granger. Many of them would fight tooth and claw to be chosen by you— that exquisite symbiosis of partnership that has long been lost in lore and stories and obfuscation. The magic is so ancient that it doesn't even register on scans or traces. It was a cast-away priceless object because its very nature was to be a true partnership— something those who want power rarely wish to share._

_I have charmed it when you use the incantation "Invenire Spiritum Meum" it will lead you to me. Be careful not to do anything else with it, Miss Granger, or it will do what it was originally made for and act like a beacon to the kind of creatures that will most likely create quite a mess competing for your favour— but such things come with price, always. I cannot say what it might take from you as the daemons fight for your favour, but I can almost guarantee it will not be something you might actually be thankful for, such as not smelling the youngest Mr Weasley's manky unwashed socks._

_Once you find and— put me out of my misery, and believe me when I say it will be misery— it would be safer to destroy it lest someone less honourable than yourself should stumble across it._

_I can only hope you are agreeable to this one last task, Miss Granger. While my small fortune or tomes and patents gains may seem like a small thing to a childhood of ridicule, I beg you to release me from this curse. After serving two masters and enduring a lifetime of unhappiness— I cannot imagine the horror of living forever alone with that weight on my shoulders._

_You have my gratitude, Miss Granger, whatever you decide._

_Sincerely,_

_Severus Snape_

* * *

Hermione watched as he passed his wand over the letter and the text changed from English into the glyphs of Sumerian save for the surprisingly neat but distinctively spiky script that clearly addressed the folded letter to Hermione Granger. He vanished the other crumpled parchments with a wave of his hand.

She watched him finish the letter with magic and sealing wax and tuck it into an official Gringotts carrier envelope. He shrank the envelope down and tied the bundle to the leg of a dignified-looking owl, gave the owl an owl-nut, opened up the shutter, and let the bird fly free.

Snape thumped as he sat heavily down into the old, battered leather chair by the bookshelves. He threw his head back and let out an exhausted wheeze just before he clutched his arm in pain, hissing.

He stood, put on an even more depressingly black robe, placed a silver mask over his face, and Disapparated.

Hermione's vision of the small world of Severus Snape abruptly went dark.

* * *

Hermione woke to the sound of frantic knocking on her door. Her brain still felt fuzzy, and her body lethargic. She was tangled with Snape's large body, and the hound was seemingly just as groggy as she was. She opened her eyes and still half-expected to be blinded by sunlight and realised the strange dream had been just as vivid as if she still had sight.

She snuggled deeper into Snape's body, the warmth from his fur too irresistible to hold out against. Her eyes drifted closed as she burrowed into him, and the hound seemed perfectly happy with that. Tendrils of darkness swirled around them, binding them tighter. Snape licked her face before surrendering to her embrace.

Hermione drifted peacefully in that comfortable warmth, yielding into the Dark tendrils without even realising they were there.

The Dark swirled around her like a blanket, and she let out a soft sigh of utter contentment.

Pounding on the door jostled her out of her comfortable space, and she flew off the chesterfield, stumbling over the coffee table, and staggering over to the door, her body slamming into it as she felt around for the bolt, latch, and handle. Snape fell off the chesterfield with a yelp-growl, shaking his head so hard the tags on his collar clinked loudly.

"I would highly recommend you stop pounding on the door like a brute, Mr Potter," a voice said quietly from the other side. "The neighbours can hear you and they are quite distant from here."

"This is _**important**_ , Sanguini!" Harry's voice yelled. "Someone important is _**missing!**_ "

"Oh no, what a tragedy," Sanguini said, his voice with exaggerated emphasis. "Quick, call the Aurors! Oh, wait, you _are_ an Auror."

"You wouldn't understand, leech," Harry hissed.

The air was deathly quiet before Sanguini's even voice replied, "Do be careful, Mr Potter. Someone might think you are incapable of being unbiased under the law."

Sanguini lay his hand on the door and whispered, "It is I, Hermione, and your young heathen friend."

The door opened as a groggy Hermione blinked rapidly as if the sun bothered her. "Come in, Master," she said, stifling a yawn. "Harry, what are _you_ doing here?"

Harry pushed by her and stomped into the house. "Ron is _**missing!"**_

"Have you tried Lavender's bed?" Hermione said dryly as she closed the door, feeling around for the lights for Harry's benefit but closing the shutters for Sanguini's.

"Ron was here last night, and he wanted to try some spell on me to allegedly fix my amulet problem. I got completely pissed off at him, he cast a spell at me, and the next thing I know, here you came pounding on my door."

She rubbed her head.

Snape trotted over to the counter to where a small hell-scape aquarium had appeared with a terrified-looking orange guppy swimming in frantic circles inside. He cocked his head to the side and let out a half-whine.

Hermione felt her way over, and her hand landed inside the aquarium with a splash. "What the— Ma— Mihail? Could you— be my eyes for me?"

Sanguini walked over and peered at the curiosity with raised eyebrows. "It is a very creatively decorated aquarium, child. The theme appears to be _Dante's Inferno_. There is a small orange fish, I believe it is a guppy, swimming around inside like his tail is on fire, not that the colour of it doesn't fit the theme."

Hermione dried off her arm. "I don't _have_ an aquarium. Well, at least I didn't last night."

"Curious, indeed," Sanguini said, rubbing his chin.

Hermione rubbed her head. "I had such strange dreams, but I can barely remember them now because of all that racket."

"I could help you, if you desire."

"Have you fed yet today?"

"No."

Hermione scowled in his direction.

Sanguini sighed. "I did not expect, in my defence, that I would need to perform a dream walk this early in the day."

Hermione felt around until she found a cabinet and then dug into it. Her hand felt around until she found a bottle, and she uncorked it, sniffed it, and then drank it down with a wrinkled face of someone who just ate a lemon thinking it was an orange. "You have my permission."

"Hey, can we discuss Ron being missing!?" Harry butted in.

"My dream might be important since it was the only thing that happened between him being here and attacking me and you waking me up, Harry Potter."

"Can't you just pull the memories out and look at them in a Pensieve?"

Hermione glowered in Harry's general direction, and despite her not being able to see him, Harry cringed.

Sanguini approached Hermione. "Dream walking is a vampire skill gained when no less than five centuries have passed, and even then, one must be of a line that can. It is far more— precise than what you would use as it requires both knowledge of Legilimency and Occlumency of sorts because to walk through a dream one must be able to filter through what is and was, what could be real and what is. To attempt to use such skills before one is old enough amongst our kind is to jump into dark water and not know how to swim or where the bottom is."

Harry stared at the other wall, pointedly not meeting Sanguini's gaze.

"If I wanted to see within your brain, Mr Potter," Sanguini said. "I would have already. However, I do not need your gaze to see your thoughts for you broadcast them as loudly as a nightingale in the dead of night. Instead of imagining your enemies everywhere, perhaps you should— sit down and contemplate your life existence."

For once, Harry sat down and stared at his navel, utterly quiet.

"Master," Hermione said, knowing what that silence meant.

Sanguini tutted. "I would rather savour your blood, my dear. Not be vultured over like every breath is a sin."

Snape was staring back and forth from Hermione to Sanguini, seemingly torn between accepting and growling.

"It's all right, Snape," Hermione said reassuringly. "Mihail has been both friend and master when so few others could be relied upon."

Snape growled in suspicion, but as Sanguini carefully lay Hermione down against the chesterfield, his gentleness seemed to calm the anxious hound.

The vampire touched her forehead and tilted her head to the side. In a flash, his fangs sank in, and then he drank from her, his paler than pale skin flushing pink as her blood spread through his system. After a few minutes he pulled away, pressing his fingers to the wounds on her neck to encourage them to seal.

He bit his wrist, wincing slightly. "Blood to blood, my child. Allow me to see what you cannot remember." He brought the blood to her lips and let her lips seal around the offering.

His body jolted slightly as her consciousness opened to him, and the vampire allowed himself to be pulled in for the ride.

* * *

When Hermione awoke again, she found herself drooling on Sanguini as Snape was cuddled up against both of them, smooshing them against the back of the poor, abused chesterfield.

"Oh my Merlin, I'm so sorry," Hermione apologised as she wiped her mouth and pushed off her old master in total mortification.

"Fear not," Sanguini said with an amused rumble. "I have acquired drool from both you and your canine friend."

Hermione flushed with embarrassment as she heard Snape panting loudly.

"I remember now," she said, shaking off the grogginess. Her expression suddenly darkened as her fingers touched the amulet embedded into her sternum. "Where _**is**_ he?" she seethed.

"Still contemplating his life's existence," Sanguini replied. "No need to hare off and clock him, though— I have heard about your punches, my dear. As much as I would love to see them in action, he is, at least right now, dealt with."

Hermione growled, and it did not sound particularly human.

"So," Sanguini said. "Now you know the truth. I will admit— I had no idea they had targeted you for such hardship. Even amongst my kind, the female is hardly treated as inferior. Those that have attempted to do so learned quickly that a female vampire is never to be underestimated."

He touched her hand as he saw it tremble. "I had wanted you as my apprentice even without knowing such things, Hermione. You earned our respect the old-fashioned way. Make no mistake about that."

Hermione centered herself slowly, taking deep breaths.

"He _didn't_ hate me. Professor Snape."

"I doubt that anyone who truly knows you ever could," Sanguini said kindly. "You were a beacon long before that was in your chest. Those around you could not help but be swept up by your warmth and passion. Even those of my kind find it fascinating."

Hermione brightened. "Did you hear that, love?" Hermione said joyfully, pulling Snape to her. She pulled his head close and hugged him tightly, then lovingly placed a kiss upon his muzzle.

Her warmth was a wondrous radiance, and the startled dog's eyes grew quite wide. His tail beat slowly, then faster, then so fast that it nearly knocked over the coffee table.

Hermione was saddened suddenly. "I hate that he was so alone, Mihail." she said as she pet Snape's head. "That he never had a true friend, someone to treat him well. I don't want to kill him, Master. I want to give him the life he deserves— even if that is not with me."

Sanguini touched her shoulder. "Child, I do not believe he was thinking that it would be you who cared for him. In that moment, that dream memory— he was very isolated and alone and full of self-loathing. Had he known there was something better out there or even a person who did not hate him, he would perhaps have considered fighting. Living for something greater than his torture. Maybe. I fear, no one can say for sure."

Hermione smiled weakly. "Is it sad that I would have wanted to know him? Really know him. He was so brilliant. I could have apprenticed with him— gods— it would have been like apprenticing with you, Mihail. All that knowledge. And he wouldn't have tried to push me out because I was a witch and not a wizard or— getting told not to have career ambitions. 'Think of the children, Hermione! If you're going to have lots of kids, you can't have careers like that! You've already wasted so much time freeing the bloody elves! Giving the goblins rights! Hell, you even advocated for the damn leeches'!"

Hermione's anger resurfaced as her voice echoed that of a certain red-headed menace that she had thought, at the very least, was her friend.

Snape gave her a few tender slurps upside the face, and Hermione's anger abruptly defused as she hugged him tightly.

"But," Hermione said after a while. "My dream didn't have any clue about what happened to Ronald. As angry as he makes me, I have no idea what happened to him. I'll admit, I wanted to strip him of his balls, but— well, that wasn't anything new after finding him with so many witches over the years."

Sanguini looked over to where Potter was still contemplating his life's existence and long-buried truths. "You want me to release the heathen then?"

Hermione huffed, sniffling in amusement. "Can I think about it?"

Sanguini's laugh was an all-surrounding chuckle. "Oh, child, you may think all you want. I have forever to wait."

"Not that long," Hermione laughed. "You may have forever, but I have only so much time."

"Easily remedied, pet," Sangini said. "You know my offer stands."

Hermione pat his hand. "I know." She smiled cheekily. "I'm just not sure I could live with you forever."

"Insolence!" Sanguini huffed. "To think I defend you."

"I feed you," Hermione said. "Surely that counts for something."

Hermione tilted her head, smiling warmly. "I will admit, certain revelations of late have accelerated whatever goodbyes I might have for this life. As you've said, it's not like I'm leaving life altogether. I just feel I need to tie up a few loose ends before telling them all to go to hell."

Sanguini patted her hand. "Speaking of loose ends, perhaps you should go visit the goblins and see if the original will and testament are there. I'm sure they have seen so many things get "lost" by the Ministry over the years."

"Fancy a trip to the bank, love?" Hermione asked Snape.

 _Rrrrou?_ he replied.

Hermione beamed. "That's a great idea. I think I'll go do that."

She paused as she felt around for the harness and put it over Snape. "Would you like a fish, Mihail?"

The vampire raised an eyebrow. "Me? An aquarist?"

"Well, I hardly find looking at aquariums relaxing in my current state," Hermione said.

Sanguini stretched, shaking his head. "I suppose I can find someone who wants a fish," he said.

Hermione suddenly smiled brightly. "Master."

Sanguini perked, knowing _that_ tone very well. "Apprentice?" he replied.

"Why not send Harry home with some fishy aspirations?"

Sanguini stood and kissed her forehead. "My child, forever I will hold you in my heart. Have fun at Gringotts. Don't worry. I will clean up—"

His expression was altogether devilish.

"I can hear you smiling, Mihail," Hermione said. "I will leave you to it."

Sanguini kissed the air just above her knuckles. "Be safe, Hermione."

"I will."

* * *

Hermione's trip to Gringotts went strangely smoothly. She had expected to bump into a long, tedious line of people, but it seemed the milling crowds were all too eager to get out of her way.

She walked right up to the counter and waited.

"Ah, Lady Dragontongue," the goblin said cheerfully. "Welcome back to Gringotts."

Hermione sighed heavily, knowing that her name would forever be linked to two major events: riding off on a Gringotts dragon and finding a way to give the Goblin Nation autonomy. She bared her teeth respectfully, and the goblin touched her hand to guide it to the place on the desk she needed.

She pressed her palm to the special indentation, knowing the unique goblin sorting magic would find whatever items were meant for her in their very large collection of miscellaneous "things."

The goblin sniffed. "I can take you back to the reading and sorting area, if you wish?"

"I would appreciate it," Hermione said, eager to get away, as the noise level surrounding Gringotts' main lobby was truly dreadful for her senses.

The goblin hopped off the chair and tapped the desk as he went so she'd know where he was. "If you will follow me?"

He unlatched the wooden gate and let her pass through, closing it behind her, he hustled in front.

The walk to the reading room was a bit of a jog as the main lobby of Gringotts was notoriously huge. When he led her into the room itself, however, the clatter of the outside lobby was cut off like a switch was thrown. Hermione sighed with relief, and Snape shook his head as if to agree, his ears flopping this way and that.

"I will be back with the documents, Lady Dragontongue," the goblin said.

"Thank you, Gnarlgash," she said with baring of teeth as she found the seat and sat down.

The goblin froze in place.

"I recognised the sound of your shoes. It squeaks on the right side just so."

The goblin chuckled. "Just wait until I change my shoes."

Hermione laughed as the goblin shuffled out the door, and the loud noises from outside went silent again.

"You know, Snape, I tried to pay back the goblins for the damages of the war— I _did_ ride a dragon out of the building with my two best mates. It had to be done, but— well. I hated feeling like I'd done something awful and not fessed up to it. The Ministry insisted it was a casualty of war. Turns out, they found the entire thing very exciting and the most danger they had seen in hundreds of years. That and my advocacy for their right to autonomy— they said I had more than paid any amount of restitution they could have ever asked for."

Snape lay his head in her lap, and she pet it fondly.

"They don't think too well of Harry and Ron though."

Snape growled.

"Right? I'm not sure how I feel about them anyway." Hermione chuckled as the door opened and Gnarlgash walked in with a few other goblins. She heard the distinctive stride of something not goblin.

Snape growled.

"Hello, Master Granger, I am Cyril Torrance from the Department of Records at the Ministry. I was informed that there was a will to be read regarding the property of Severus Snape."

Hermione frowned. "Why was this not done before?"

"I'm sorry, Master Granger, this is the first I heard of it. From what was explained to us previously, there was no will and his property was given to the blokes in the Aurory to be sorted and sold at auction to benefit the war reclamation fund."

One of the elder goblins growled, and Snape echoed it.

Hermione soothed Snape by rubbing his ears, and he licked her hand affectionately.

The chairs moved about, and Hermione smouldered silently, but Snape's soft chuff and snuggle against her lap

She listened to the older goblin read the letter she remembered from her dream and then the will itself. Her hand trembled, and Snape licked it gently.

Hermione could practically hear the representative from the Ministry simmering in his own sweat.

"I can see that there must have been an unfortunate misunderstanding somewhere down the line."

Hermione twitched, and Snape growled.

The man shuffled through papers. "All property that was sold or moved will be retrieved, of course. Those that cannot be— restitution will be served by the Ministry with what was listed in the inventories—"

"We have the full inventory of his estate and vaults," the elder goblin said. "Signed, verified, and bound under Oath before being registered with us."

The Ministry official seemed to shift even more uncomfortably. "Of course, we will go off the copies of the verified list."

"Mr Torrance," Hermione said evenly, her mouth a thin line. "Why was I not informed of this before the assets had been divvied up and sold?"

Mr Torrance sighed. "I swear upon my magic, Master Granger, that I truly had _no_ idea. I got the message today to come here, and I did. I was, admittedly, quite surprised to learn it was in regard to Master Snape's will, as I had been told around the time of his death that no will had ever been filed."

"May I ask who told you?"

"Someone from the Aurors' office. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement. They had gone through his items shortly after the war to make sure there were no Dark artefacts among his possessions."

"Was this before or after they exonerated him as a hero and awarded him a posthumous Order of Merlin First Class?"

The uncomfortable silence filled the room. Hermione could almost see the dagger-like gazes flying around the room even in her blindness.

"I—I am fairly certain it was before."

Hermione's expression was stony. "I expect everything that was taken will be returned to me, and that you will explain to whoever you sold the place to precisely _why_ they are being evicted."

Torrance swallowed hard. "I believe the Spinner's End property was demolished by the current owner—so, uh, a new home could be built in its place."

"Who _is_ the new owner?"

Snape's low growl filled the room, and Hermione could hear the chair scraping across the floor as the man stumbled backward.

"Harry Potter," Torrance squeaked.

"And who is living in that property _now_?" Hermione made the last word sound like it was seething for her.

"A Ronald Bilius Weasley."

Hermione's teeth clenched together. "Under Magically Owned Property Law 34.B.74-56-2, I demand that my property be returned to me at once and that restitution is paid in full with interest."

"These are your friends, Master Granger," Torrance sputtered, obviously quite surprised that she could be so cold.

"Had they asked me? Had I had a chance to maybe look through things first? Maybe. Maybe I would have given them the property to build on. But they didn't bother to tell me about it. Instead, they seized that property and denied me any ability to make my own choices. Then they destroyed a home to get petty revenge against a dead man. Apparently, I left my friends behind when they died during the war. I don't even know them now."

Hermione's jaw ached from clenching her teeth. "And I want their names removed from any and all documents pertaining to my death at once. If anything should happen to me, it will fall to my Power of Attorney, Master Sanguini, to settle my affairs."

"Of course, Lady Dragontongue," the goblins agreed immediately.

"Master Ironfang, my thanks for your indulgence and duty."

The elder goblin grunted. "You are most welcome."

" _Fortius Quo Fidelius_ ," Hermione said with a bow of her head.

" _Fortius Quo Fidelius,_ " the goblins all replied together.

"Your wand, my Lady," a goblin said.

Hermione could practically hear the Ministry representative's jaw drop to the table as she passed her wand to the goblin without hesitation.

The goblin took it and carried it over to a receptacle on the wall. A glass tube closed over it and magic flashed, and the goblin took the wand and brought it back. "Your wand, my Lady," the goblin said, tapping the table. He tapped the table to alert her, and Hermione opened her hand. He placed the wand into it, closing her fingers over it with his gnarled hand.

"Thank you," she thanked him.

"You are welcome, and the requested adjustments to your account have all been made."

 _Browl_ , Snape said as he thumped his head against her lap.

Hermione sighed and mused over whether it would be worth it to allow Sanguini to Turn her just so she could have the pleasure of tearing out Harry's throat legally for having the nerve to take what was rightfully hers.

* * *

Ginny came by with a parcel of food from Molly the next weekend, and the witch was torn between who to kick between the legs first, her husband or her brother.

Ronald, of course, was still missing in action, but Harry had apparently built himself an enormous wall aquarium and began obsessing over fish-keeping. At least until the other Aurors came with some Ministry officials as they tore apart their home looking for evidence of malfeasance.

Ginny had been absolutely livid, screaming at them to get out— at least until they found the actual documents that were signed to give the house on Spinner's End in Cokeworth to her brother.

The trials after the war had made it clear that it had been Snape's personal residence.

Molly and Arthur had been under the impression that Harry had purchased the property to preserve it in the hopes of perhaps finding something to connect to his late mother. They, like Ginny, had no idea that was where Ron was now living. They had all assumed he found a flat with his Order of Merlin stipend and was using it as a bachelor's pad— somewhere closer to work.

Molly, completely mortified that not only her son but her son-in-law had taken such liberties with not only Snape's last wishes but Hermione's life (even without the entire ancient artefact fused to her chest debacle) ended up in a bout of angry cooking. Ginny always said the angry cooking produced more food than even the entire Ministry could eat over the course of a week, and when Hermione heard Ginny packing it all into her fridge and freezer, she was inclined to believe her.

Snape seemed rather unsure about what to make of the youngest female Weasely, not that Hermione could blame him. Ginny was a true force of nature when riled up, and when Hurricane Ginevra hit the shores, it usually resulted in a whirlwind of upheaval for anyone caught in her wind.

The large and meaty shank of beef, however, won Snape over if the sound of his crunching was any indicator combined with the enthusiastic thumps of his tails against the side of the chesterfield.

That poor old chesterfield had seen a lot of love and abuse over the years, but Hermione couldn't help but love the thing.

As for Ginny, she was glad that at least some of the Weasleys hadn't lost their minds trying to bury her in bad press. Apparently Molly and Arthur believed that Ron had fled the country for some reason, as his vaults had apparently been emptied save for the last pay deposit that had occurred after he disappeared.

Harry, on the other hand, could only babble helplessly about fish, and Hermione wondered if maybe her old master had rolled his mind a little _too_ effectively.

Not that she was complaining, really.

Restitution was coming out of Harry's vaults since Ron's were empty, and the remains of his stipend from the Order of Merlin was being funnelled back into her account at Gringotts. The items that had been sold were being taken back, and in some cases such people were arrested for other shady dealings discovered during the location of said items—

The Ministry was, undoubtedly, quite busy indeed.

And backpedaling.

And swearing up and down that they hadn't known.

And doing their level best to officially look less like the biggest flatulent arsehole of the whole wide Magical World.

Even if most people seemed to think otherwise—

But Ginny came round to visit more often, having far less relationship maintenance to do with Harry now that Harry was an inpatient at St Mungos being treated for various inexplicable fish-related compulsions. Ginny had sold off all the aquariums and fish to a collector in Wales who fell in love with the "positively smashing _Dante's Inferno_ inspired decor". Ginny was seriously considering going back into sportscasting for Quidditch, and Hermione had to admit her friend was showing a lot more spunk now at the thought of having her own job again.

Sometimes, Ginny would visit when Sanguini was around, and Hermione would amuse herself listening to the red-head sputter incoherently at the Italian vampire's, well, vampireness.

Hermione knew from experience that the eerie way vampires seemed to be still as the dead was unnerving to most, their eyes missing very little, and their feral quality demonstrating a bit of the wild side that one could not quite place unless they had experience in being stalked by an apex predator. Sanguini seemed to enjoy toying with her, too, which made Ginny practically fall to pieces as Hermione listened with great amusement.

Snape seemed to enjoy the free entertainment as well, his tails thumping rapidly in approval of Sanguini playing with his— food.

She had no doubt whatsoever that Ginny would probably bare her neck right then and there for Sanguini if he truly wanted her, but the vampire seemed to enjoy making her squirm with desire and unrequited lust more than desiring an actual feed.

Hermione had asked him after Ginny had (very flustered and probably still aroused) left for the night why he had never done such craziness with her.

"I have too much respect for you, child," he had replied. "If I were to inspire such feelings in you, I would want them to be real, not a mere game."

She knew it wasn't an insult to be called a child by a vampire as old as Sanguini. Anyone younger than him was a child, and he was most certainly older than most mortals knew. As an experienced dream walker, it put him at the very least over five-hundred, and the experienced part guaranteed a few hundred more on top of that. In a way, she knew it was a compliment because it meant he would protect her fiercely from all comers.

Besides with Snape, she felt safe with Sanguini, and after having been deceived and cheated by her two best friends, well— that was really saying something.

And smooshed between Sanguini and Snape on the old chesterfield as she listened and they watched the telly with her— old vintage movies being a much-cherished treat for her—she couldn't help but feel like it wouldn't be such a bad thing to have for life.

Neither of them seemed to complain when she fell asleep on them, either.

It seemed like the kind of life she wanted to keep.

It was the kind of life she wanted Severus Snape's spirit to have, wherever it was, and she resolved to dig more into the research that could possibly help him. She just hoped that Harry and Ron hadn't done something utterly stupid and burned anything from Snape's belongings.

* * *

Hermione awoke one morning to find that Armageddon had hit her front garden. She couldn't see it, but she could certainly smell it, and poor Snape took about an hour just to guide her to the front gate to collect the post. She sat down on the wrought iron bench outside her yard and wondered what could have possibly brought the cataclysm to her humble home.

Snape whined, tugging on the harness, obviously attracted by something. Hoping she wasn't going to end up with a shipwreck pulled into her garden, she released his harness.

Snape promptly tore off after something at the approximate speed of Ron attacking a heaping pile of sandwiches, leaving her sitting alone in the sun. She smiled at his obvious excitement, shaking her head, happy to hear him having a good time doing what most dogs did whenever they weren't working.

She _did_ feel sorry for whatever the dog caught, though—

Hopefully it was a garden gnome and not a litter of baby rabbits. As terrible as it was to say, gnomes had no predators save for Jarveys, and she hadn't seen one of those in the area when she was looking around for a place to settle down. Gnomes were like out of control rodents, only instead of getting into your grain stores, they covered your garden in holes and laughed as you broke your ankles. They killed off the native flora and fauna, often living rather grisly visuals on spikes in the yard to cause children to cry and the fuming land owners to consider Fiendfyre as a possible solution.

It was starting to make sense to her just why _Grimm's Fairy Tales_ were so downright morbid and horrifying.

Hermione had tried hard to find some redeeming quality about them, but she was starting to realise they were an invasive species that had spread far beyond a point where native predators could keep up. That had partially been the fault of thoughtless humans for driving out the Jarveys and other larger and hungrier predators.

Then again, no Wizarding family wanted their babies to be eaten by magical predators.

Hermione sighed. If anything, working as an advocate for all beings from house-elves to vampires, she'd learned that humans had a real knack for pushing out or using species that had been around long before themselves.

Hermione heard Snape shake something vigorously and then drop it. The rapid patter of canine paws signalled that he wasn't quite done playing, and then Hermione chuckled as he dashed off yet again.

She savoured the warmth of the sun on her face and wondered what it would be like to have to live her life in the shade. Though, she thought, she enjoyed the kiss of the night's chill on her skin as much as the warmth of the sun. Perhaps, she thought, it wouldn't be so bad in the right company.

_Whuffft._

Snape's warm breath hit her face as he snuffled her. His breath smelled like charcoal burning in a Muggle grill, and she wondered what on earth he'd been chewing on. She pet him fondly, tolerating his affectionate licks.

"What were you chasing around, pet?" Hermione asked.

 _Rrrrrf_ , Snape replied, his tails thumping happily on the ground.

"You better not have gas tonight," Hermione warned him. "You'll lose your cuddle privileges."

Snape whined, making soft sounds of entreaty.

"I draw the line at hellfarts," Hermione said firmly.

Hermione was suddenly glad she couldn't see because she was sure he was giving her the best puppy dog eyes on the planet.

She put the harness back on Snape and allowed him to guide her back through the minefield that was her front garden. "I'm going to have to hire a landscaper. I can't even see the yard to know how bad it is, but I feel like it's in a horrible state."

Snape whined softly.

Hermione stopped walking and looked to where she thought Snape was. "Did you happen to have a fight in my front garden last night?"

Snape whined again.

"Whatever could you have been fighting that required my front garden to be the apocalypse now?"

As if to accentuate her question, a bit of rubble fell off another piece of rubble, causing a plume of dust and shower of debris to billow upwards into a distinct skull shape.

Snape whined and hung his head in shame.

Hermione frowned. "Why do I get the feeling that I'm actually very glad I can't see the current state of my formerly beautiful front garden?"

Snape guided her back into the house, his tails drooping and head hanging low.

That night, in the wee hours of morning, one hell-fiend leapt out the open window, bounded about a kilometer to the nearest neighbours' yard, and passed a prodigious amount of gas. He bounded back toward the house, leapt back in through the window, and rejoined his mistress in the comfort of the bed.

The next morning, Hermione slept in, blissfully unconscious, never hearing the impotent screams of her neighbour upon discovering that his prize rose bushes had mysteriously given up the ghost and died, seemingly overnight.

A certain noxious fume expelling hell-fiend pinned his ears back and snuggled closer to Hermione, his tails wrapping around her body either protectively or for his own comfort.

Only Snape knew for sure, and he wasn't exactly talking.

* * *

Hermione was starting to feel like something very odd was going on with her poor, abused garden. Maybe it was the lack of songbirds, or maybe it was the lack of peaceful tranquility that she remembered from before. Or, maybe it was because she could at least walk through it before without a service dog…

Well, whatever he was.

Service hellfiend just didn't have a proper ring to it, no matter _what_ Sanguini claimed.

Judging by Sanguini's reaction to the woeful state of her garden, it apparently looked like someone's attempt to turn it into the set for a Mars movie— or an epic battleground.

Or both.

"The bodies of gnomes on spikes like something from Vlad the Impaler's time is a nice touch," Sanguini said with a sniff. "If your wish is to discourage any would-be visitors via sheer intimidation factor."

Hermione frowned. "I don't even have visitors, really." Hermione shrugged. "The only ones that do— well, two of them are rather occupied at the moment, one came by anyway regardless of what my lawn looked like, and the other— well, I don't think I could get rid of Ginny even if I wanted to."

"She is a very strong-willed friend as friends go," Sanguini said after a while. "Alas, she is also a very young soul, and sometimes I feel I must take her over my knee. "

Hermione snort-laughed, almost spilling her tea. "I can't even imagine that without laughing, and that makes me feel horrible."

"Horribly amused, perhaps," Sanguini said with a voice that smiled for him.

Hermione sniffed, but she leaned into him with a content smile. "So, exactly _how_ bad is my garden?"

"It could definitely use some landscaping," Sanguini observed, clucking his tongue. "I could assist."

Hermione pondered if Snape was all about destruction and Sanguini was creation and between the two of them they would cancel each other out. "No cupid fountains, Master, I beg you."

Sanguini smiled mischievously. "Of course, pet."

Hermione had a feeling that it would be far _worse_ than cupid fountains—

* * *

"Must you battle gods and demons at our mutual friend's door?" Sanguini asked dryly as he leaned up against the door frame.

Snape dropped the leg of something that had clearly once been massive and intimidating— not so much after being unceremoniously de-legged.

Snape wagged his tails.

"That might work in some circles, my large furry fiend, but some of us know better." Sanguini shrugged. "Don't be bringing that dreadful thing inside. She just cleaned the floor."

Snape looked to the side a bit fishily.

Sanguini pointed to the ravine well outside the yard. "Go bury that somewhere else, not in here. Hermione deserves to have a place to sleep that doesn't involve sleeping on top of the mouldering corpses of the recently vanquished."

Snape wrapped his jaws around the limb and carried it off somewhat dejectedly.

Sanguini sighed as the sound of frantic digging came from some distance away. "Dogs. Regular dogs. Demon dogs. Spirit dogs. Vampire dogs. They're all the same."

Snape trotted back looking pretty smug.

"Wipe your feet," Sanguini said.

Snape wiped his paws on the welcome mat and bounded in.

"Aw, there you are, Snape," Hermione laughed, hugging the hellfiend with her affectionate warmth.

"You going to come inside and watch the movie with us, Mihail?"

"Wouldn't miss it, love," Sanguini said as he closed the door and joined her on the chesterfield. "What are we watching tonight?"

"Vertigo."

"Ahhhh, Hitchcock," Sanguini tutted. "Classic film."

He picked up a remote and turned on the telly.

Within moments, Hermione was tucked into his side with a bowl of buttered popcorn as Snape nestled snugly against her in a perfectly mundane image of domestic tranquility— quite oblivious to the random demons pinging off the outer gates of the property as they tried in vain to come closer.

Snape's tails thumped against the chesterfield in approval, though as to what he was actually approving of remained to be seen.

* * *

"I don't think I can do it," Hermione said softly, shoving the parchments away from her with a sigh.

Snape startled from where he had been snoozing at her feet.

"I cannot condemn a person to death just because he never knew someone who could care enough for him to make living worthwhile, let alone desirable" Hermione argued with herself. She cancelled the reading spell she had cast over the parchments and books and slowly felt her way to her bedroom.

Days had passed into months, and her constant research into how to release Severus Snape from his cursed existence (wherever he was) still remained utterly grim. Whatever Lily had done to him, the intent was a greater part of it along with the strength of emotion, and those were two combinations she well knew could cause just about anything for kids with accidental magic, let alone a person who was on the cusp of adulthood—

She had her nightgown on in a matter of seconds, and she crawled under the covers with a weary sigh. Snape jumped up and joined her, snuggling into her. She wrapped her arm around his warmth and nuzzled into his fur.

She felt a sudden wave of melancholy. "Do you think he would have even given me the time of day?" she asked Snape with a heavy sadness. "I wonder what it would be like to be in love. To _be_ loved. Who am I to judge someone who did so much for the world and only asked one thing— to be allowed to die? But I'm too selfish. When I think of someone I want to spend time with, I would want it to be him, and I never even knew him that well. Did any of us?"

She burrowed even deeper into her pillow.

"I am a fool," she told Snape. "A dreaming, selfish fool."

Snape whined and licked her face.

"I hate her, you know?" Hermione said into the pillow. "Harry's mum, Lily. She had friendship and utter brilliance right there and she couldn't even see what a gift it was, just because it didn't shine like something well polished and radiant"

Hermione huffed. "No better than Harry or Ron, I suppose. Sometimes you do so much to try and maintain a relationship, but those you are trying to help never see it. They didn't even know I was a girl for the longest time."

Hermione sniffed. "I wonder what it would have been like to have a friend who would read with me. Debate me. Challenge me but not just in some blind thing like what sports team would win. Would they have liked watching old movies with Mihail and me? Encouraged me to finish my mastery? Been happy for me?"

Hermione's murmurs went silent as she fell asleep, and Snape felt her arms wrap around his body, fur, horns, and whatever else. His tails wrapped around her protectively as he joined her in slumber.

* * *

Hermione woke to the sound of breaking things in the front yard and a lot of ferocious growling. It directly contrasted to the lovely dream she'd had having a rather deep conversation with Severus Snape the human, and her brain was having a problem reconciling the two things into full consciousness.

She felt her way along to the door, hallway, and front door, opening the latch to get a feel on what was going on.

Alas, being blind did make that sort of evaluation a bit more difficult.

"Why do you fight so ferociously, dog?" a low voice boomed. "We wish to court her as you have courted her, and you have spent so much time monopolizing her favour and keeping us from what is both our and her right to choose."

She could hear Snape growling menacingly.

She grabbed her white cane, moving it across the ground, and everywhere she went there were pot holes and divots torn in the ground.

As she swept her cane back and forth to make her way forward, the cane touched something.

There was a heated blast of movement and a burning sensation even as her cane went flying—

Hermione went crashing backwards, her body's agony cut short as her head hit something hard.

The sound of sharp yelp followed by an inhumanly deep snarl came from all around.

"Idiot hound," the voice growled. "You call _this_ protection? She cannot even rely on you to keep her safe."

She heard whining as the other voice boomed, "Begone, dog. You've done enough. I am no longer feeling magnanimous to tolerate your posturing."

And then, all the sound faded out, and the blackness of Oblivion swallowed her whole.

* * *

Hermione woke to a pounding headache.

"Do not move too quickly," a voice warned. "You injured your head in a fall."

Feeling that moving quickly wasn't even an option, she slowly sat up and peered in the direction the voice had come from.

"I'm sorry, I have no idea who you are," Hermione said, rubbing her head.

"I am Raka'ku'santi, Summoner," the voice rumbled a reply. "I am here to petition for your time to consider me for your Bind."

Hermione was silent. "My— Bind?"

"None had been able to get past the hound," the voice rumbled. "He has been defending you mercilessly."

"Yet, here you are," Hermione said.

"He _hurt_ you," Raka'ku'santi said. "To wound your Summoner is a great disgrace. It is within your right to banish him."

"He hurt me?" Hermione frowned "I don't think he meant to."

"Meaning to is irrelevant," Raka'ku'santi said. "We must always be aware of where our Summoner is."

"For someone like me, I can understand being swept up in the moment. If he was protecting me from one as powerful as you appear to be, Raka'ku'santi, then he was probably wound very tightly."

"You are just as they say you are, Hermione," the demon rumbled. "Fair and considerate. But, now that I am here, will you deny me my chance to earn your favour?"

"I do not know the rules, Raka'ku'santi," Hermione said. "I do not wish to offend, but I am unsure of my own rights in this."

"You are within your rights to find me lacking and banish me from your side, Hermione," Raka'ku'santi said. "But, I would ask that you actually find me lacking before you do so."

Hermione closed her eyes habitually. "That would be fair. Might I ask you please not punish Snape for his misjudgement?"

The demon propped her up with his arm. "He is doing that to himself effectively enough, I believe," he replied. "But you have my word to not seek harm for him unless he seeks to cause harm to me."

"That is fair," Hermione said. "Where _is_ Snape?"

"I believe he's currently chewing the head off an unfortunate rodent in an attempt to feel useful."

Hermione frowned. Then she clicked her tongue.

Warm, wet, wiggle-nuzzle-tentacle-slurps with a dash of char-breath promptly met her face as Snape tried his very best to merge with her lap.

"That had best not be charred rat breath you just slurped me with," Hermione told him, clearly suspicious.

Snape whined, exposing his belly and throat in supplication.

"Do you want the truth?" Raka'ku'santi asked.

Hermione sighed as she pet Snape's ears. "Not really. Is my face covered in bits of charred rat?"

"Do you wish it to be?"

"No, not really."

"Humans have such odd quibbles," Raka'ku'santi said. "Allow me to assist you."

Hermione thought a while. "Okay."

The demon was surprisingly gentle, and he worked over her face with a warm damp cloth.

Hermione's curiosity was piqued again. "May I touch you?"

"You may touch me anytime you wish," Raka'ku'santi rumbled.

Hermione flushed at the tone of his voice, but she reached out to explore the demon's features.

His features were quite alien to her mind's eye, and she gently explored the ridges and contours of his bestial muzzle, eye ridges, horns, and mane. His hot breath was strangely calming, and the feel of him so much larger than life made her life seem more real.

While magic had been an almost natural adjustment, even for a daughter of dentists, seeing magical creatures hadn't really held the same sense of alien wonder for her as Raka'ku'santi's rather obvious differences. Flying horses, dragons, and three-headed dogs were all over the Muggle stories despite the common belief that they were only make-believe.

Demons, however, had so many conflicting stories and myths, rooted both in and out of religions as well as cultural differences.

But, what Raka'ku'santi felt like both to her magic and her touch—

It felt like something completely outside the boundaries of what those who would summon a demon for power would attempt to harness, and yet that alienness strangely felt comforting and natural.

He nuzzled her, and the feel of his muzzle against her cheek and neck caused her eyes to flutter.

She wobbled.

"You feel it, don't you? The draw. The pull," Raka'ku'santi said. "That is what we feel and must answer. That need for completion."

"Do you all feel like that?" Hermione asked, her voice a whisper.

"No," he replied. "There are those whom you would find repugnant. Just as you would find those people amongst your kind that are not compatible."

"So— those that are trying to make their way here—?" Hermione asked.

"They are more— compatible, yes."

She nestled into the crook of his arm even as Snape lay his head in her lap. "When you aren't trying to murder each other, I find your presenses comforting. That probably makes me a horrible example of humanity."

The demon huffed, sending tendrils of dark vapour out from his nostrils. "It is why you are you and not them," he rumbled.

Hermione was silent, pondering. "What is it you do, Raka'ku'santi? What is your specialty?"

"I am not a Lord with a domain and innumerable supplicants and syphocants," he said. "Under contracts, I have provided one service or desire, bound by whatever rules govern the belief system used to summon. Though, if I were to pick a favoured area, I suppose I would be a demon of retribution, as it seems most of those who summon me wish for that. To ask for more would require more sacrifice on their part."

"And, what will I have to sacrifice if there is a bond between us?" Hermione asked.

"There is no sacrifice save, perhaps, making space for me in your life, my dear. What we would have is a partnership. What they want is for me to do as they command— to the letter. The biggest boon for me would be that I could exist here with you on this plane of existence without the limits I would have otherwise. The biggest for you would be the same, and very few of my kind find it," he said, pausing as he scratched his skin with his claws, "worth the effort to fight another demon just to get to you. The exception would be if someone contracted them to do so, and then I would be obligated to tear them to shreds. Mind— it would be no obligation to protect one such as you, Hermione. It would be an honour and pleasure."

"You hardly know me," Hermione said.

"I know more than you would think, Hermione," the demon said. "We read people very well and very quickly. It is something we have to do in our—" He chuckled. "Line of work."

"Would you lie to me?"

"Never."

Raka'ku'santi chuckled. "I know it is hard to believe with so many stories of my kind, Hermione. But you know my Name, and I would not lie to a Summoner. Even the contractors must know the terms of the deal. We do not lie to them, but they often forget to ask the right question, which we do not correct, usually. Since I am courting you to keep me in your favour, to lie to you would be equally damning. The Bond requires truth and mutual agreement. To build it on a lie would void the Bond and call me out, so to speak. We must be compatible for both our sakes. Better to know than live a powerless lie."

Hermione explored Raka'ku'santi's fascinating skin texture with her fingers. "I look forward to getting to know you then, Raka'ku'santi."

"And I you, Hermione."

Snape whined and licked her hand.

"I hope you like dogs."

Raka'ku'santi chuckled. "We have reached a mutual understanding."

"Oh? What is that?"

"You are more important than our fight."

Hermione's face wrinkled. "I suppose that works. But, is it too much to ask for you both to fix my poor garden which you have mutually destroyed for a second or perhaps third time. I've lost track."

"As you wish."

Snape whined, licking Hermione's hand more frantically.

"Do I need to be specific, or will my request result in a garden hellscape complete with the screams of the damned?"

Raka'ku'santi's chuckle seemed to come from everywhere, deep and earthy. "No, Summoner. I know what you want."

"That's slightly creepy."

"You will get used to it. What is the use of having a demon if that demon is an idiot?"

Hermione sputtered. "You make a fair observation."

Raka'ku'santi stood, and Hermione found the absence of his warmth like a void.

"Come, hound," the demon said. "Let us fix our warring state of the yard so our mistress can enjoy it again."

Snape gave Hermione apologitory licks before slinking off the chesterfield to assist Raka'ku'santi in the garden.

Hermione couldn't help but think her life was never going to be normal the way she remembered it, and she was equally unsure if she ever wanted it to be.

* * *

"The garden is very shady, Hermione," Sanguini said as they sat together during the day.

"I hope you like it. I will admit, I could only feel the bigger things, but at least I can get to the post without tripping."

"I will admit, most people who desire a garden do not consider vampire comfort."

"I'm hardly oblivious to vampires in my life, Mihail," Hermione muttered.

"No, child, I know," Sanguini said with a chuckle. "Raka'ku'santi tells me that there have been a few fracas out here since his arrival, but Snape and he have teamed up to defend your patch."

Hermione shook her head. "I am hardly used to being fought over," she confessed. "Or taken care of," she said. "Between you, Snape, and Raka'ku'santi, I feel like a queen."

"You are a queen, my dear," Sanguini said. "But you do not need sovereignty and arrogance to be so. You are worth defending because you are you. You are worth being taken care of for the very same reasons. That your once best friends could not see this is but a disgust to those of us who know better."

Hermione leaned into him, and Sanguini wrapped a protective arm around her. She pressed her face into his neck, taking in the scent of him. He smelled of ancient places and deep earth with a hint of citrus. It pleased her. His growl she was used to, and it sent a shiver down her spine but not in a bad way. He nuzzled her neck and cheek, lips parted as a soft hiss escaped. She yielded to his tender licks even as his fangs lengthened and very lightly dragged across her skin.

"You needn't think of yourself as being unloved, Hermione," he whispered against her skin. "While I can be forced to file what we have as only a friendship, I would be lying to you if I said I did not dream of more."

His low growl reverberated against her skin. "I would even time-share with the dog and your daemonic butler if they became a permanent fixture in your life."

Hermione's fingers explored his face and hair, the tips of her fingers touching the flat line of his lips and gently touching his fangs. "You really know how to sweet talk a witch."

"That's why I'm the ambassador," he purred, his voice heavy with desire.

"I'm sure there are rules against being in an intimate long-term relationship with the ambassador," Hermione said, a sadness in her eyes as she seemed to look at him and through him.

His voice tickled her ear. "Not if that person is my mate," he said, his fingers pressed against the back of her neck as his claws ever so gently touched her skin.

"You truly wouldn't mind that I come with a hellfiend and a greater demon masquerading as my butler?"

"Hermione," Sanguini said as he brushed his thumb against her cheek. "You would keep both me and the entire Council on their toes. Life would never be dull, and that is saying something from one like me who has seen so very many lives come and go."

"I still need to find Professor Snape," Hermione said softly. "And release him from his curse."

"We can work on it together, pet," Sanguini said. "He was a very brave man caught between two worlds, and while he did not trust anyone, let alone me, I had the utmost respect for the man."

"You would do that?"

"For you and for him, my dear," Sanguini said. "He deserves to find peace after all he has done. He may not have done it for fame, but that does not make a lifetime of suffering any less significant."

His breath tickled her cheek, and she reached to cup his head between her palms, her fingers weaving into his hair. His head dipped to allow his mouth to cover hers, and she felt a surge of pleasure travel from head-to-toe as the kiss deepened with promise and heat.

The crack of someone suddenly Apparating in caused Hermione to sit up straight, rigid as a board, and Sanguini snarled in annoyance. Snape barked furiously as Raka'ku'santi walked up to the gate, his footsteps clacking against the stone path.

"Mrs Potter is here to see you, ma'am," Raka said with a deep rumble.

Hermione gave Sanguini a moment to gather his instincts before replying. "I'll be there in just a moment."

She bent her neck to him, allowing him to press his face into it, even as she felt his fangs moving against her skin as they retracted. He took a few steadying, grounding breaths to shove his nature back into the controls that would keep him from murdering one of Hermione's last remaining human friends in cold territorial blood.

His hand wove into her hair as he placed a chaste kiss upon her temple. "Thank you."

He stood, cracking his neck as the mask of the very polite vampire ambassador snapped into place.

Hermione took out her white cane and walked toward the gate, sweeping it back and forth in front of her to find her way. Snape shoved his head under her hand, harness jingling. She grasped it gratefully, allowing him to guide her the rest of the way.

"Hermione! When did you get a butler! How did you— whoa, what in Merlin's name happened to your garden? Hey, let me in, you big lug!"

Raka had his finger pressed to Ginny's forehead, effectively pinning the bewildered redhead in place. His eyes glowed red as his gaze raked over her. "Do you wish her to be permitted entry, my Lady?"

"No." Hermione's lips twitched as Ginny screeched. "But she is allowed in regardless."

"As you wish," Raka said, releasing Ginevra from her frozen struggle in vain. "Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. I was not expecting any other guests. Please excuse the delay."

"It's fine, Raka, thank you."

"Hermione!" Ginny protested as she ran up to her giving her a hug.

Hermione was startled at the lack of warning, but she mechanically gave the witch a return hug. Ginny was always so boisterous, and for someone who was carefully listening to small noises to navigate her way through the darkness, Ginny Weasley was the loudest of sirens.

"Hermione! I found something I think might help you release Snape's spirit from his curse!"

Hermione felt a shiver run down her spine. " _What?"_

* * *

"Are you certain that you did not read any of this out loud?" Sanguini asked Ginny as they sat around the dinner table.

"No, I didn't!" Ginny swore. "Well, maybe a few words until I realised they weren't in any language I knew!"

Sanguini cursed fluently in a language Hermione knew wasn't spoken anymore, and cringed.

"What is it, Master?"

"It is a journal, child," Sanguini replied after he was done spewing creative vitriol. "And essentially a recipe book for damnation."

" _What?"_ Hermione gasped, her hand pausing as she was petting Snape on the head. He nuzzled her hand and encouraged more petting.

"It is a roadmap to successfully binding a demon to your service for the purpose of one wish," Raka'ku'santi said with a rumble. "Fear not, Hermione, the human witch thinks I am humming to myself."

Hermione frowned.

"Wishes are a dangerous type of summons," Raka said with a growl. "Depending on the wish, if it requires changing what is to something else or creating what was not, then the demon requires an innocent soul to power that wish. Hence the legends that demons barter for souls— but it is rather more than that. A human soul is mutable. It can be light or dark depending on the inclinations of its owner. It can be transformed, and the energy is capable of powering a spell through a lifetime. Such as a wish for—" Raka'ku'santi looked at Hermione meaningfully. "Love."

The elder demon licked his teeth, the sound distinctive to Hermione's ears. "Only the strongest demons meddle with love because even the smallest error breaks the contract and the demon is left without the power of the exchange, the soul, or the terms of obtaining the reward stated in the contract . It would be like selling a lemon as the mortals put it."

Sanguini's skin seemed to grow even paler as he tapped the journal with a finger. "I believe that Mr Potter's mother wanted to obtain someone's love and perhaps whatever influence that would beget her— so much so that she was willing to barter with demons. Only, like most summoners who do it for all the self-serving reasons, she did not wish to give up her own soul to power the demon's spell. She gave the demon Snape's soul instead, as a condition upon his eventual death— marking his soul with her spell and her fake curse. So, when he died, he would no longer be around to complain to her, and she would get her wish for undying love for her long life. Or so she believed."

"That's horrible!" Ginny cried. "How could anyone do that to someone else?"

Hermione's lips pressed into a line. "I doubt she was thinking of who it would hurt, Ginny. From what I understand of typical summoning for power or a boon, it is quite different from rational."

"What language is that?" Ginny asked.

"It is a cipher," Sanguini said. "A fairly basic one that an experienced person who knows cipher would know almost immediately, but to the uninitiated would seem like gibberish or a language that they didn't know. It was probably done with a spell like one would use to hide the contents of a diary from casual prying eyes. Quite clever against less determined interpreters. The problem is, and why I must know for sure if you read any of it, Mrs Potter, is ciphered spells of this nature still hold power in the intent of the magic recorded if said out loud. The magic is insidious and formal, but it is also unlike typical magic that requires perfect intonation and intent."

Ginny shook her head adamantly. "Only a few words at the beginning after the name 'Lily Evans'. I saw the name and realised maybe there could be something in there that could help Hermione's project trying to save Professor Snape."

Sanguini sighed with relief. "You are most fortunate. The spells are not listed until a few pages in."

Ginny wrung her hands, a habit that she had picked up from her mother.

"Does it help us free Professor Snape from the curse?" Hermione asked.

"Give me a few days to read this and translate it, child, and we can go from there. We do not want any misunderstandings of what this Lily Evans has done. Any stumble could cause problems for us releasing Snape from curse, and when demons are involved— we want far less problems not more."

"Hermione," Raka'ku'santi rumbled. "There is one thing you may have to do soon if another demon is involved."

Hermione turned to face the elder demon, her brows furrowing.

"Please consider a formal bind between us, lest whatever demon comes to barter with you over your old teacher, wish your soul in return. Since this was an old bargain made between them and a contractor, they could threaten you, and those of us who would wish to fight for you could not do so without the bind. The bind both merges the soul and protects it from being contractually stolen. You cannot steal what is already bound."

Ginny said, "Does your butler always hum to himself?"

Hermione closed her eyes and nodded.

* * *

"How would this work, Raka'ku'santi?"

"To make the bind it must be mutual. It is strange that we will be technically sharing you because you do not wish to choose between us. While this is not against the rules, it is— rather unique of you. Most summoners want power only, but you care for us and you do not mind us caring for you." Raka touched her knuckles with his talons, brushing the pads of his fingers against her.

"But to include the vampire within our protections requires a bond between you both as well, or rather completion of the bond you already have," Raku said. "I do not say this to pressure you, but you must know the risks that should he not be protected, the demon that comes to answer the challenge of releasing that soul will—"

"Take me out," Sanguini said, "with all due prejudice, to weaken you."

"You have been living for some time now with uncompleted bonds between all of us, Hermione," Raka'ku'santi said. "While this was fine for our courtship of sorts, to bring another demon here to fight them requires different rules. Once bound, a threat to you is a threat to me, and I can do everything I wish to protect us in the heat of battle."

"How do I know if Snape wishes to Bind with me?" Hermione asked. "He has not spoken to me."

"He is devoted to you, Hermione," Raka'ku'santi said with a chuckle. "He would not be here defending you against all comers including me if this were not so. It was his choice all along or he would not have come at all."

Snape's head was in her lap and he was licking her hands as if to tell her the same.

Hermione smiled, her expression softening. "Forever is a long time to consider. Perhaps not so much for those of you that measure time so differently, but I feel I must ask you all if you are sure this Bind is what you want. My feelings are genuine, but I am— I have always been against relationships that are of duty or enslavement rather than actual desire."

"I have thought of forever between us a long time, Hermione," Sanguini said. "It is but a formality if my feelings are returned."

Hermione felt a rush of warmth with his confession, and she had to admit that thinking of a life without Mihail in it seemed bleak and lonely. With that realisation, she also felt the truth settle in her stomach that it would be equally lonely without Snape and Raka'ku'santi.

They had become her normal.

Trusted.

Comforting.

Even needed.

Snape licked her face, and she felt a few tentacles wriggle against her cheek to add their own commentary.

"Believe me when I tell you that even if I were to find a mate amongst my kind, it would pale in comparison to what I feel for you. You will always be the first who ever felt genuine care for my well-being. Not for power. Not for contract. Not for manipulation. You wish for an equal and a friend, and I would gladly be so until the very universe burns. That can never be stolen from us."

 _Wuff,_ Snape agreed.

Hermione cradled Snape's head between her palms. "I wonder if you are one of those hellfiends who gain the power to shapeshift once the bond is made.

Snape's tails wagged.

"What would Ginny say to a shape-shifting talking 'dog'?" Hermione mused.

"She'd probably be jealous," Sanguini said. "In her mind, you seem to get the best toys. She might change her mind once she realised the dog was a hellfiend, however. Most people do not react well to that."

Hermione placed a kiss on top of Snape's head between the ears. "I think he's lovely."

"And you wonder why we would swear our fealty for all time," Raka'ku'santi mused. "It is not so hard to believe when you can accept us as we are."

"I haven't always been so accepting," Hermione confessed. "There were those like Luna that seemed so different even to me, and I was not always kind."

"Yet you grew from the experiences you've had. You have matured," Sanguini said. "Accepted things you could not or would not when you were younger. Think of all the things you see now without sight. What would your younger self say to such epiphanies?"

Hermione chuckled. "Probably run screaming."

"See? Improvement," Sanguini teased. "Hermione, you know we do not Turn the young. There are some ancient vampires that were turned on the edge— what we would consider children now but not then. Back then, you grew up fast or you died. Today— it is a luxury to be given the time to mature at the rate physiology demands. You have been there many things in a very short time. You have matured beyond your age, and your age has not always been as young as your peers. We— vampires that is— have a sense of true mental maturity after a time. It is why Turning a child is such a crime. One, they will never be able to travel alone without a guise or servant. Two, they can never be stable because they have never known stability of the mind. No matter how talented or powerful they might be, control will never be possible. They are frozen in that place between child and adult forever. Teenagers are a potions experiment teetering on the edge of explosion."

"You were quite mature before your time, but you are most definitely more mature now than you once were," Sanguini said. "Your years deflecting the Council's drama only hastened it. Your dances with the Ministry were an art form in itself. You needn't think yourself so flawed, child. We are all flawed. But your flaws are not what you are. They are simply a piece of a greater whole."

Hermione trembled.

" _Draga mea,_ " Sanguini whispered, pulling her hands in his. "What is wrong?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Why is it when you say something so logical it sounds so beautiful?"

Sanguini touched her cheek, brushing it with his thumb. " _Mă faci să vreau să fiu o persoană mai bună._ "

Hermione leaned into his touch. "I accept your bond, Mihail, but I am afraid I will disappoint you."

" _Scumpi,_ you could never disappoint me," Sanguini whispered, his breath tickling her ear. "Your childhood friends, however—"

His lips met hers, and the resulting kiss started out gentle but transformed into something undoubtedly heated. Hermione whimpered when his touch left her skin, and his growls reverberated through her body as she struggled to touch him everywhere. He hoisted her up, causing her to cry out, and he carried her to the bedroom.

The bed tried to suck them both in, and it took a great amount of finesse to undress himself and not lose contact with Hermione's skin. He trailed kisses down her neck and shoulder before capturing her breast in his mouth, his tongue flicking across her nipple.

Hermione cursed, her body arching up against his, and he worshipped her body, tracing every scar with his tongue and lips as he left a trail of invisible fire that ignited her nerves. Hermione moaned, clinging, clawing, running her hands over his body as if trying to map every contour in her head.

His hand trailed down her belly and between her legs, and the moment his slender finger flicked across her clitoris, she cried out, her hips driving upward to slide his fingers deep into her waiting vagina.

Sanguini's eyes bled completely black as his nature surged forward, multiple hungers rising in his body.

"Gods, woman," he groaned into her skin. "I want you."

"Please, Mihail," she whispered. "Please."

Her magic sang across her skin, and it tingled as it met with his touch. His erection stood up proudly, and his normally pale skin was flush pink with blood. He slid into her easily, the combination of delicious friction and lack thereof caused his fangs to lengthen.

He thrust, slowly at first to test her reaction, and her primal, needy growl and grasping at his back told him all he needed to know. Growling, he thrust his hips against her with increasing speed. Hermione's voice was a mixture of groaning and crying, twisting into something nearing a shriek. Her rising pleasure was causing her magic to spike; her hair was writhing around like it was alive. Her body spasmed as she climaxed, and he felt her clamp down on him.

His fangs flashed— burying into her slender neck in the height of their combined passion. Her blood flooded into his mouth, rich with her arousal and oxygen. His arms wrapped around her like the arms of an enamoured octopus, and he felt the bond between them struggling to complete itself.

He bit down on his own tongue, wincing with the instant of pain, and their combined blood flooded his mouth. He pressed his mouth to hers and kissed her, feeding her the unique cocktail that would bind them as mates. His fingers stroked her throat, encouraging her to swallow. The moment she did, he could feel the sublime rush of ecstasy flooding every nerve in his body with the bond's solidification.

He collapsed back on the bed, panting as their bodies seemed to vibrate together.

"Flesh of my flesh; blood of my blood; kin of my kin," Sanguini whispered. "My heart and yours shall beat as one in this world and the world unseen. My beloved. My mate."

Raka'ku'santi was there, the looming shadow in the darkest of darks, and he lowered his head to delicately lap at the blood from Hermione's neck— Sanguini and Hermione's combined blood singing with their combined magic.

Raka'ku'santi growled, his eyes glowing, and he stepped aside to allow Snape to lick the wound as well. Snape licked her neck gently, laving the blood away and into his mouth until it slowed to a trickle and then stopped.

Snape jumped up onto the bed and nestled against Hermione, his tails wrapping snugly around her and Sanguini's legs. Raka'ku'santi lay beside Sanguini, turning into a twisting shadow form that slithered across them all, weaving around them until their skin seemed to blacken and absorb the dark tendrils.

The room was suddenly devoured in a black nova until only four sets of deep purple eyes glowed in the Dark and the glowing green amulet that had set itself in Hermione's sternum shattered into millions of tiny particles, peppering their skins with glowing phosphorescent flecks resembling glitter.

* * *

Hermione awoke to the sun in her face.

She bolted upright, her hands outstretched.

Sunlight danced between her fingers.

She could see.

She could _**SEE!**_

She pinched herself.

No, it _wasn't_ a dream.

An arm grabbed her and pulled her back down, and she felt an immediate rush of contentment—

Until her eyes focused on the vampire-pale and oh-so-painfully-familiar countenance of Severus Snape.

Hermione's mind had a sudden spontaneous potions explosion, and she went careening off a mental cliff screaming " _ **Weeeeeeeeeeeeee!"**_

And then she noticed that Severus Snape was quite naked indeed and had an exceedingly attractive and well-built body.

Hermione swallowed hard.

" _Draga mea_ ," Sanguini rumbled into her ear as he pulled her closer.

"P-p-professor Snape!" she whispered, her voice barely able to form a coherent word, name, or even syllable.

Sanguini sat up, rubbing his nose as he brushed his hair away from his face. "Oh, there you are, Severus. Thank you for saving us the time and energy required to find you. I may have something in your size, but I rather doubt you would fancy ruffles."

Snape's eyes opened groggily as he took in the first blurred and then a much clearer image of a nude Hermione and an equally nude Sanguini. "Oh gods, now I _know_ I'm in hell."

* * *

**End of Chapter One**

* * *

**A/N:** I swear the characters did what they wanted, and they did not ask me for permission. I apologise to those who are more used to my normal writing which is strictly ss/hg, but Hermione was adamant in this one. I really didn't get a say in the matter.

This story was meant to redeem Sanguini after The Scent of Moonflowers (who was an unmitigated arseface) and I might have done it a little too well. Oops?

 **Beta Late-Night Love:** to Dragon and the Rose for rising from the dead to beta my crazy and DeepShadows2 for cheerleading my total and utter derailment into— whatever the heck this is.

I will be working this weekend, and this entire next week promises to kick my arse at work. (sadness)


	2. Coming to Terms

**Summary:** Sanguini/SS/HG: AU: Hermione finally gets a seeing-eye dog after all the others were afraid of her. (M for reasons)

 **Beta Love:** DeepShadows2, Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01, Flyby Commander Shepherd

 **Warning:** Probably crack.

* * *

**Gift From Hell**

Chapter Two

_Be a good animal, true to your animal instincts._

**D. H. Lawrence**

* * *

Hermione decided that nothing was going to happen until she was properly bathed and well-caffeinated, so she padded into the bath with her bare everything, her mind made up to take things one step at a time.

Her body ached, but it was a rather pleasant sort of ache. She cracked her neck and rubbed her shoulders as she slowly lathered up, feeling both energised and a bit tired at the same time. She didn't regret agreeing to accept Sanguini's bond, nor solidifying the one between herself and Raka'ku'santi, but she had been completely blindsided by the discovery of Severus Snape very much alive in her bed with Snape the hellfiend's collar and tags as his sole adornment.

The bond could not be faked.

It could never be forced.

But _how_ could Snape the hellfiend be so devoted and affectionate and yet Professor Snape had greeted her with a curse of disbelief? She wondered if it was like Professor Snape the stern, irritable teacher versus Severus Snape the enigmatic man who no one ever really knew—

_Whine._

_Scratch scratch._

Hermione watched as a large hellish canine head was shoved into the shower to join her. She laughed as he eagerly lapped at the water with his tongue and tentacles and then shook his head giving her a secondary shower for her shower. "Snape," she said with a chuckle, rubbing his head and chin.

He shoved his way into the shower and sat in the stream of water, his tails happily thumping against the tile of the bathroom. Hermione shook her head and bathed him too from nose to tail, marvelling at how large he actually was.

She had thought him dog-sized, but she realised that it was akin to comparing a toy poodle to a dire wolf or a small garden lizard to a Ukrainian Firebelly.

Yet she wasn't afraid of Snape.

His black eyes looked at her with the warmth she had imagined when her sight had been taken from her, and his gaze held all the devotion she had felt just by touching him.

She looked deeply into his eyes. "Are you in there, Professor?"

Snape looked up at her adoringly, tails thumping.

"I never wished to take away your choices," she said. "I hope you can believe that."

Snape licked her face and chin.

Hermione hugged him, placing a kiss on the side of his head as the warmth of the bond filled her with undeniable love. "I love you too."

Suddenly, Snape was back in his human form and again quite naked except for his collar. Hermione stumbled backwards in utter mortification as she grabbed a towel and wrapped herself in it.

"I'm so sorry, Professor!" she cried, blushing madly and hurrying for the door. "I'll let you, uh, shower!"

She dashed out of the bathroom, her face flushed.

Snape stared at the tile of the shower taking deep cleansing breaths, his mind struggling with the realisation that Granger was definitely not a child nor his annoying student anymore, that he really, _really_ wanted to go tree a squirrel, and that he desperately wanted to take the lovely witch into his arms and not let go.

"Shite," he cursed as the shower water pounded down on him.

* * *

The Wizengamot was in a complete uproar as the contents of Lily Evans' journal and makeshift grimoire was exposed for what it truly was: damnation.

Snape found himself with tightened muscles and even tighter nerves as he realised that Lily's son and his ginger best mate had deliberately sold off his property and thwarted his will, making it impossible for Granger to know his intentions and wish for freedom from her curse.

Then, as if _that_ wasn't enough, he found out that the curse hadn't so much been about him allegedly being unforgivable so much as it had been a convenient way to obtain what Lily really wanted: James bloody Potter, the living key that won her entry into pureblood society, and a life of wealth and comfort.

He couldn't even _believe_ it.

Lily, a demon summoner.

And she had dared accuse _**HIM**_ of Dark magic?

His only dabbling in the art of summoning was to alter the artefact to be able to locate him—and that had been thwarted by one singularly idiotic Ronald Bilius Weasley who had accidentally activated the relic and bound it to Granger. And _**THAT**_ wouldn't have happened had it not been for Weasley and Potter deciding to divvy up his property amongst themselves and conveniently forget to pursue the terms of Snape's actual will.

He'd have strangled the boy himself, but it seemed the idiot was currently an inpatient at Mungos with a serious and inexplicable fish fascination and obsession. As for Ronald, the ginger boy blunder, he hadn't been seen in Britain for almost a year now after attacking Granger with some sort of spell allegedly meant to "fix" the problem embedded into her sternum.

And now, thanks to Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumber, Granger was the very first fully accepted Summoner the Wizarding World had seen in centuries. She hadn't exactly _ASKED_ for the artefact to be fused to her soul, and to not seal a bond with Raka'ku'santi (and arguably himself) there would have been waves upon waves of otherworldly demonic suitors coming to prove themselves worthy of binding to her power—all of them ready and willing to tear apart Britain in order to get to her.

So, for the good of Britain, the Wizengamot and the Ministry had little choice but to officially sanction Granger's acquisition of power, and that was only one thing from a very long list of things they had been forced to accept.

Like Granger sitting beside Sanguini at the Wizengamot—

 _That_ had certainly turned some heads.

Sanguini had been a member of the Wizengamot for a very, very long time and the seat for his mate had existed for as long as him, but he had never once taken a mate.

Until now.

And, despite having never given Sanguini his trust before, the vampire had spoken in depth of Snape's accomplishments.

But it was more than just the Wizengamot acknowledging that he was alive and truly not dead.

It was about Hermione releasing what was his back to him since he was, technically, still alive, and a decision on the punishment for the entanglements that had lost his property in the first place.

Granger (and he was slightly confused as to what last name Granger was going to go by since Sanguini was, at least to the general public, always simply Sanguini) was also due recompense for what should have been hers during the time when he had been believed to be dead.

He had intended her to get her mastery then be able to free him from what he'd believed was simply an accidental teenage emotion-fueled curse—

But things were clearly not at all what they had appeared to be, even to him.

Raka'ku'santi, the demon that managed to expertly blend intimidating with enviable butler-organization skills and a twist of culinary suave, said the demon that had originally contracted with Lily Evans for Snape's soul would soon be coming to collect. He would be disappointed, the demon said, but the confrontation would still have to happen and it would most likely be—a most uncomfortable experience.

Moreso even than waking up bloody starkers in Granger's honeymoon bed.

If that was even _possible_.

The Wizengamot was rather discomfited with having to decide the fate of Wizarding Britain's hero, someone who had, even with the help of others, defeated a very big bad.

But Snape's will had been quite clear.

Legally impenetrable.

He had made damn sure of that.

And while Granger owed him nothing, she hadn't hesitated to relinquish his property and assets back to him without even so much as a token twitch of protest.

She stood tall and steadfast before the Wizengamot. She hadn't even flinched.

So very strong.

And when one member of the Wizengamot had tried to tear into Granger's reputation, having obviously read way to too much Skeeter, Hermione had challenged the idiot to a duel right then and there on the Wizengamot floor using formal language that made a goblin legal contract look like a Muggle children's book.

Said idiot had paled and immediately apologised in a flurry of frantic babbling, having not actually expected her to know her rights in the situation.

Well, of course she did.

She was Hermione Fucking Granger, after all—

Even _he_ knew that, and he'd been living a dog's life for—however long that had been. Ten-some years?

More, even.

Long enough for Granger to campaign against house-elf slavery, liberate the goblin people, and give the vampires autonomy over themselves as long as they did not break any of the magical laws of the people they lived with.

She had successfully completed a mastery on top of that, earning great respect from the vampire council, and she had done it all despite an onslaught of guilt-tripping and other manipulations on the part of her so-called "friends" who wanted an altogether different "best" for her.

It was decided that since the evidence was clear and that Harry Potter was rather out of sorts in the sanity department, that restitution would be paid through his vaults.

As for Mr Ronald Weasley—

There had been a warrant issued to bring him in for questioning and to face his own sentencing by the Wizengamot.

All traces in an attempt to locate him, however, had ultimately failed.

It was probably a good thing, as Severus imagined he would waste his newfound life and freedom by putting himself in Azkaban "dealing" with Weasley and Potter.

* * *

What surprised him was that when Sanguini and Granger moved into a new place in Shropshire near Wyre Forest, they had provided accommodations for him to build on their property. He built a modest cottage with a generous place for brewing and research, his library, and living space.

He had appreciated the privacy, as coming back from the dead was hardly an action that didn't stoke the fires of the media.

And apparently, vampires were masters of unplottable, secret-kept properties. Who knew?

Having a personal demon "butler" probably didn't hurt, either.

If anything, Granger and Sanguini were the utmost in respect of his space and need to adjust, and he went to sleep in his own bed surrounded by his own things.

But then, he'd wake up in Granger's bed with her arm around him and her face pressed into his hair—and his parts very, _very_ happy to be there, thank you very much.

He was, of course, utterly mortified, and Granger seemed equally flustered, but he wasn't so out of sorts that he didn't notice that every time he stumbled awkwardly backwards from her that she visibly drooped a little.

And every time it happened he wanted to take her up in his arms and drive that look from her face—

It was impossible, of course.

There was no way she could ever want him in her life in _that_ way.

Not after all he had done. Not after all the terrible things he had said to her as her teacher—her very cruel and unfair teacher.

It didn't matter that she had matured into quite a powerful and attractive witch. Was it any wonder that someone like Sanguini, who could have his pick of any witch he fancied, would have pounced on her?

"I hardly pounced on her like some horny animal, Severus," Sanguini said as he stirred his tea with a spoon with the other on the handle. He sipped his tea idly and shirtless. "There was a courtship, albeit a convoluted one."

"Must you walk around half clothed?"

"You would prefer fully unclothed?" Sanguini purred.

"No."

"Pity."

"Aren't you supposed to be drinking blood somewhere and sleeping in a coffin?"

"How primeval," Sanguini said. "While I'm sure blood is still rather intrinsic to the vampire species, that doesn't mean I cannot enjoy a spot of tea and Raka'ku'santi's most delicious berry tarts."

"Since when do vampires even eat human food?"

"To be fair, our diet is very human," Sanguini said.

"Eating humans is not what I mean."

"Well, someone has to," Sanguini reasoned. "They are so plentiful and overpopulated after all."

Severus frowned, his face wrinkling. "I don't recall giving you permission to read my thoughts."

"I don't _need_ permission, Severus," Sanguini pointed out, "when you broadcast them so very loudly directly into my mind like some Muggle radio station, or that Wizarding Wireless as they call it. Even the newly Turned could read you as easily as a children's book."

Severus frowned even harder. "I am not inexperienced in shielding my thoughts."

"No, I did not say you were," Sanguini said, his tongue flicking across his teeth. "But you are in a bond between two of the Sânge, a demon, and yourself. Regardless of whatever denial you are currently going through, it does exist, and you are definitely broadcasting on every available channel."

Severus' lip twitched.

"Do not make me prove I'm right, Severus," Sanguini said, eyeing him narrowly. "I do so _hate_ the parlour tricks that humans often require to believe something is real."

"I really hate to break this to you, but I _am_ human," Severus sighed.

"Well, you do look like one quite convincingly," Sanguini replied. "I will give you that much."

"You said the curse was broken," Severus said, eyes narrowing.

"Oh, it was," Sanguini said. He brushed his arm with one hand as if ridding himself of dog hair. "But that does not change what you truly are—what you became the moment you died thanks to your, erm, friend."

Severus felt immediately defensive of Lily's memory at Sanguini's tone. "She was my _friend_ , vampire," he hissed.

Sanguini's eyes went completely black as he slowly turned to regard Severus. "Before you foolishly attempt to throw yourself at someone as old as me, Severus, think hard on what you wrote in your own letter describing how the curse had to be broken—and why you thought it could not happen that way. Then as you do this, think how it could possibly have happened anyway, then do enjoy the sensation of kicking yourself squarely in the arse." Sanguini then jerked his head, and his eyes returned to a more human, if a bit eerie, look.

"My mate has been exceedingly patient with you, Severus," Sanguini said, "and for that I will honour her wishes. You have just come back to life, so to speak. But your soul has already made its choice, and I highly recommend that you come to terms with it before she decides that you truly are rejecting her."

"If you haven't noticed, Sanguini, she is _your_ wife."

"Believe me, I have not forgotten that at all," the vampire said, licking his lips.

"Then how can you possibly encourage any sort of intimate relationship between myself and Granger?"

"First, her name is Hermione, she's asked you to use it, and you might as well use it as calling her solely by her surname is rather rude," Sanguini said pointedly. "Second, it was accepted in the terms of our relationship that I would be amenable to sharing my life and my wife with her then-helldog and demon. As long as there is proper communication between us and the understanding that this is a valid partnership bond and not an open all-you-can-eat buffet, then I am willing to share. Just as she is willing to understand that there will be times when I must attend to my ambassadorial duties in a very traditional vampire manner. And with a lifespan that reaches across centuries, keeping open lines of communication becomes all the more important."

Severus glowered silently but said nothing.

Sanguini tilted his head. "I highly suggest that you think very hard on this holy image you have of your childhood 'friend' and then ponder the terms of the curse. Hermione saved more than just herself that night, Severus. She saved all of us, and if someone like that finds us worthy of love, then by the gods pay attention and love her back."

Snape suddenly shifted back into hellfiend form, jumped out the window, and tore after a random squirrel, leaving a pile of shredded clothing behind him yet again.

Sanguini closed his eyes and shook his head. "Dogs."

* * *

Hermione woke to find Severus in her bed cuddling a—car fender?

She was terribly groggy, and the sun streaming through the window was like a lullaby luring her back into sleep.

Somehow, she had slept through Snape's return with a piece of a mutilated vehicle that smelled like traffic.

Thank you ever so much, vampire heightened senses.

Not that Snape had any excuse, really. His senses were supposedly far greater than hers, yet he was snuggling that fender like it was goblin silver and he was a dragon.

 _Dogs like to sniff each other's butts, too_ , her mind reminded her.

Okay, point for random canine factoids.

Severus was having a dream, and he was making soft noises of eager pursuit. His legs and arms were twitching slightly as if he was on the move.

Hermione reached out to touch his skin, soothing it like she would his fur. The moment she made contact, his dream seemed to calm, and he stilled, and she felt that suffusing comfort of the bond.

She pressed her face into the softness of his hair, taking in the scent of brewing and the earth and foliage "Snape" had undoubtedly rolled in. She closed her eyes and let her fingers explore his skin and scars. Her blindness had made her explore her world with every other sense, and she found it more "real" to take in the world with her fingers and senses other than her eyes.

She felt the flow of magic and pulses of life between them, and it was so familiar and comforting, just as "Snape" had been. But while she felt the echo of that same bond with Severus, it felt stunted somehow, guarded, almost as if he was trying to Occlude it like he would his mind from the Dark Lord or even Albus Dumbledore.

Sanguini had said it would take time for Severus the man to come to terms with his soul rampaging around as a hellfiend and that said hellfiend, his soul, had chosen Hermione as its keeper. She just had to be patient—more patient than she could have been only a few months earlier and more patient than she had ever been in her life. She had time, and it was more than Hermione Granger, Muggleborn and mortal witch, could have ever fathomed.

Severus had baggage dating back longer than she had lived, and for him to shake it would require a safe place where he could come to terms with the harsh truth that he had been used not only by the Dark Lord and Albus Dumbledore but his childhood friend.

No matter how much she would wish him to understand the depth of her affection for him, it would have to wait for when his battered psyche was ready to risk opening to the idea that someone, anyone, could possibly care for him when the one person he thought did could do what she did to him for the false love of James Potter.

If Harry weren't obsessing over fish-keeping, he'd be just as if not more shattered by the revelation, Hermione was sure.

A part of her hardened at the thought of Harry, replacing the affection and warmth she had once had for the obstinate but well-meaning boy that had been her friend. She had _thought_ he was her friend, but their friendship had apparently paled in comparison to sticking it to their old Potions teacher's memory by taking his property and selling off his stuff as well as conveniently ignoring his will.

She hadn't exactly gotten over that betrayal, if she were honest with herself. Giving Severus the man time to sort out his feelings from the decisions his soul had made without his "baggage" wasn't asking for something unrealistic or impossible.

She just wished that one of the first sights she had seen upon regaining her vision hadn't been his highly appealing body.

* * *

Raka'ku'santi eyed Snape with a questioning eyebrow. "What in the Nine Hells is _that?_ "

Severus sighed as he attempted to brew himself into a better state of mind. "It's a car fender. I woke up with it and now find myself strangely attached to it."

The elder demon gave the dented, drooled on, pierced, and mangled piece of rubber, metal, and plastic an appraising eye. "It looks like you chewed it to hell, dog."

Severus rubbed his jaw, wincing. "That explains the toothache."

Raka'ku'santi shook his head and continued on his way, carrying a stack of freshly folded linens to the next room. "Dogs."

Somewhere out Shropshire, a couple stared at their mangled de-fendered car.

"I told you, you hit a deer!"

"I did _**not**_ hit a deer!"

"Well you hit _**SOMETHING!"**_

"It wasn't a deer!"

"Oh, God! What if it was a person! The police will be looking for us! We'll be arrested for fleeing the scene of a crime!"

In the neighbour's yard, the couple's child happily announced, "My da ran over someone with our car!"

The couple hurriedly collected their child and ran into the house in a panic.

The neighbours exchanged glances with each other. "I think they be smokin' somethin'," the mother said to the husband.

"Aye," the husband agreed. "I think we be needin' to move. Bad influence on the wee sprog."

* * *

"Great merciful gods, you make _**sushi?!**_ " Hermione exclaimed.

"And other things," Raka'ku'santi said with a toothy grin.

"People would sell their soul for your cooking alone," Hermione groaned.

"Technically not much cooking is involved in this. More artistic slicing."

Hermione chuckled. "Well, I love you and your skill in the culinary arts." She dove into the salmon and cucumber hand roll and made a moan bordering on the obscene. "Thank you Bind for allowing me to enjoy food."

Raka'ku'santi laughed. "Let us keep that secret between us. We wouldn't want vampires selling off their souls just to be able to taste pudding again and what have you."

He paused. "Wait? What am I saying. _Do_ tell everyone. I look forward to the conflict."

"Raka—" Hermione chided.

The demon smiled. "Yes, I know. Less drama, not more. At least while you're conscious."

Hermione closed her eyes, listening. "Severus is brewing his life away again."

"I believe it helps him think. Unlike others who mess up when thinking too hard, brewing is a calming influence," Raka'ku'santi said.

"Well, the paperwork has gone through," Hermione said. "We are now officially the Brimstone Potions and Apothecary. Severus can brew and experiment to his heart's content and ship his products via owl, imp, or whatever have you, never having to see his customer's face."

"It will help him feel less like a moocher, I think."

"He's hardly a moocher," Hermione said.

"True, but—" Raka sighed. "The human mind tends to find fault where there is no fault while the demon mind finds fault where fault is. We use that to our advantage often, to gain contracts with indecisive summoners."

Hermione frowned. "I wouldn't think a summoner would be indecisive considering how hard it is to actually summon traditionally."

Raka'ku'santi shrugged. "You would think so, but often summoning happens in an emotional moment when a mortal is driven for something poignant at the time. Revenge. Lost child. Betrayal—powerful emotions drive one to turn to the daemonic for help, and they are not interested in a partnership. They want something very selfish more often than not."

Hermione tapped the table with her fingers. "What would drive a teenage witch to demonology to solve her love life?"

Raka sighed. "Many things, Hermione. Just as our Sanguini often tells stories of when someone Turns a child into a killing machine that can never grow up, mature, or settle—that same inability to see a bigger picture allows the young to make very unwise pacts with my kind. This is the same for supposed adults who never quite grew up as they say. I'm sure the Sânge have rules against that too. Anything that would threaten the species as a whole and bring humans hunting for them en masse is probably frowned on."

Hermione chuckled. "Fortunately, most vampires enjoy the Muggle belief that they are fictitious. Better to be thought of as a myth and a construct of the imagination than hunted by angry mobs of people."

Raka'ku'santi cleared the table with eerie silence and efficiency. "You have a guest, my Lady," he said with a low growl. "Shall I devour them?"

Hermione tsked. "We greet guests first before assuming they are malevolent."

"So, eat them after?"

Hermione shooed Raka out of the room. "Don't you have souls to count or something?"

The demon smiled as Hermione rolled her eyes and walked to the door.

* * *

Severus paced the space by the window—back and forth—back and forth.

Granger had gone off with the Weasley girl for some sort of social torture that involved shopping, and he should have felt relieved.

He didn't.

The silence around the property should have been calming, but he found it wasn't the same without the sounds of Hermione working in the garden and tinkering with her technomagery gadgets.

He should have offered to go with.

 _No!_ He _hated_ crowds!

He should be there to protect her.

 _No!_ She was perfectly _capable_ of protecting herself.

He paced, an almost-whine escaping his throat.

There was someone approaching the property.

He growled, pacing harder. He didn't recognise the footsteps— no he did.

_**Interloper!** _

"Severus, shouldn't you be brewing?" Sanguini asked as he appeared out of nowhere as was his usual habit.

"I can't brew when there is an invader near the property."

Sanguini raised an eyebrow. He looked out the window to see the postman walk up to the mailbox and deposit the mail before walking off.

"That's it! Get _**out**_ of our yard! Get out! Tail between your legs! _**RRRRR!"**_

Severus felt a hand on his head as Sanguini scritched his scalp. "Good boy," Sanguini said as he walked off to tend to his other business.

Severus felt his leg shaking as the feeling of pleasure spread through his body.

Severus glowered down the hall where Sanguini had disappeared.

"Fuck."

* * *

Ginny poked at the stuffed shells on her plate.

"Ginny, if you don't stop moving your food around like you're trying to play Wizard chess I'm going to go finish my shopping errands alone."

"I know my brother was an arse, but I'm really worried about him."

Hermione stiffened at the mention of Ronald.

"Hear me out, please?" Ginny asked plaintively.

Hermione closed her eyes, trying to still the immediate anger in her stomach. Anger stirred hunger, and hunger did _not_ include eating copious amounts of ice cream while watching horrible movies on the telly.

"What is it, then?"

"The Ministry won't release any information on my brother, and Percy says there has to be a request from a high-ranking official, that would help increase the priority of the hunt for him. I _know_ he's a git, Hermione, but I think I'd rather know where he was even if it was in Azkaban than have him out there somewhere unknown. What if he's in trouble with bad people? What if he got married and has a hidden family? What if he was murdered by a jealous lover!"

"Ginny, just stop," Hermione snapped.

Ginny looked around and realised that people were staring intently at her.

"Ginny, I will _not_ use my influence with Sanguini to expedite a manhunt for your brother. If the Aurors don't see a reason to worry, why are you?"

Ginny stared at her plate. "I have to find him. I just _have_ to."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. Something wasn't right. Ginny had been nothing but adamant that she wanted to personally tear off Ron's balls, tan them, and use them as hacky sacks.

And Percy—

Percy couldn't care less about his baby brother after a line of unwed witches with red-headed infants had trailed through the Ministry to file for child maintenance— which had made his family look bad.

And Percy absolutely _hated_ anything that made him or his family look worse than they already did.

"Now that I have your _attention_ ," a voice said— the voice was that of a female unknown to her.

Hermione looked up, eyes narrowed.

"I have a message for your paramour," a pale-skinned woman said, the tip of one long fingernail poised against Ginny's neck. The pointy tip dug into her freckled skin just enough to draw a single bead of blood. "He will cease his hunt for my children immediately, or else certain things he cares about will be meeting rather sticky ends."

"I believe you are quite mistaken," Hermione said icily. "I do not have a paramour."

The woman sneered at her. "You may have convinced the council that you are untouchable, hiding yourself away with magic, and even wrapping your claws around Sanguini's fool heart, but it is a _lie_ , girl. He will never take a real mate. He's turned down far better flesh than the likes of you."

Hermione's eyes flicked to Ginny's neck where the vampiress' claw was dug into her skin. The scent of her blood was laden with some sort of potion.

Ginny had been drugged and possibly mind rolled— all to get Hermione out of "hiding" so that a message could be sent.

Typical vampire trickery, but—

The Sânge Council had Marked Hermione as off limits. To go against the will of the Council was— well, either she had great confidence in her own power, her actual power was very strong, or else she was simply insane. The woman, whoever she was, clearly believed she was powerless against her.

Either she hadn't been paying attention in recognising a fellow vampire class or—

The Bind had done more than just give them the ability to eat normal food and walk in the sun without feeling like a hundred thousand fire ants were biting their skin—

Her mate had made it very clear that the bond between mates was not something easily missed. Survival of the species depended on knowing who was allied to who.

Why then, was this particular vampire failing so massively?

So, was she just arrogant, or did this vampire have exceptional power? Power enough to be able to hide their true power as Sanguini often did?

Possible.

Unlikely, but— possible.

"Mummy, I'm hungry," a small voice said.

Hermione's eyes widened as she saw a child, perhaps no more than five, tugging on her "mum's" sleeve. The child was pale as milk, and her eyes were black with hunger.

A _child_ vampire.

"Go find yourself something to eat, love," the vampiress commanded.

The child looked gleeful as she ran up to some random person in the market sobbing and crying about having lost her mummy and daddy in the crowd. The child waited until the person had her cradled in their arms, and then she struck like a viper, taking out the poor sod behind some crates of fruit.

Hermione tried to move forward to stop it—

"Ah-ah—" the vampiress said tauntingly. "You wouldn't want something unfortunate to happen to your little friend here, would you? Now off you go to take my message to Sanguini. He leaves my children alone, and I'll let your freckled friend here live to see another day."

There was a crash from the crates, and the vampiress smiled. "Such a good child."

"You'd make a vampire out a child? Are you mad?"

"You don't understand," the woman snarled at her. "Blood is the only bond that matters, and nothing is as pure as the blood between mother and child."

"You're right," Hermione said coolly. "I don't understand how any mother would condemn a child to live forever as a child. Never growing. Never aging. Always hungry. They'll never be independent. They'll never be able to exceed you and be your legacy. They'll always be trapped. Dependent. Mad with the realisation they can never become more than what they are."

"Shut up," the vampiress snarled, digging her claw even deeper into Ginny's neck. "My babies will always be my babies. They will always love their mother."

"I pity you," Hermione said. "And I'm sorry."

The older vampire scoffed. "And what are you sorry for?"

"I'm sorry that you will lose everything you think you care for because you couldn't keep your fangs to yourself and let your children grow up to choose it."

It was then, perhaps, that the vampiress realised that time had seemed to suddenly slow and stop. People stood perfectly still, frozen in mid-walk or talk. Colours dulled. Sounds faded away.

"Lady Barbaneagra, you have been judged by the Sânge Council. We find you guilty of murdering your husband and fellow Sânge when he attempted to stop you from Turning your own children. You and your aberrations shall be put to death for your foolish aspirations have put all the Sânge in danger, and there will be no more tolerance for your arrogance or your madness. The trail of death you have wrought upon this land—it is utterly inexcusable. Normally, it would be the task of the sire to deal with a child, but seeing as you murdered your own husband— it falls to me."

Lady Barbaneagra moved quickly and grabbed Hermione, pinning Hermione's arms behind her as she jerked her head sharply to the side. "You come any closer, Sanguini, and I will rip out your little plaything's throat."

Sanguini clicked his fingers, and the child-vampire walked toward him from the crates, compelled to obey, but the child was covered in the blood of her victim, having had no control or desire for it in her haste to feed her own pounding hunger. His pale fingers grasped the little vampire.

Sanguini bit the end of his finger and then painted a symbol over her blood-soaked head. "May your god be merciful on your soul, child, for your life ended long before now and should never have ended by the hand of your own mother."

The beast-child snarled and snapped, literally foaming at the mouth in her madness to feed.

Sanguini blinked slowly. "Forgive me." He snapped the vampire's neck with a clean motion as the glyph on the vampire's head started the burn and consumed the vampire-child in flames until the body was nothing but motes of grey ash.

Sanguini shed one tear, a trickle of blood streaking down his alabaster skin.

"Nooooooooo!" Lady Barbaneagra screamed as she buried her fangs into Hermione's neck.

Hermione reached up with her finger, biting the end, and drew a glyph on her attacker's forehead.

Lady Barbaneagra threw Hermione down, frantically rubbing the symbol off herself only to have the blur of motion that was a greater hellfiend slam into her, jaws outstretched as writhing tentacles extended from the void that was its mouth. They clasped onto her head and drew it in as Snape clamped his jaws around the vampiress' head and crushed it between the lines of jagged teeth.

Hermione grasped Ginny in her arms and fled into the shadows with Sanguini. Raka'ku'santi's form grew more solid as the bubble of time began to speed back up. He snarled as his wings folded around himself like a bat hanging from the cave, then they burst outward as a nova of magic released.

Colours and sound returned.

Time restarted.

People screamed as Lady Barbaneagra's headless corpse shuffled forward, her pale arms outstretched—

" _ **Inferi!"**_ cried the witches and wizards as they all pulled their wands and blasted Lady Barbaneagra's body to kingdom come.

When the dust cleared, however, no one could remember why they were all gathered around a pile of grey ash.

* * *

_**Marketplace Murders Finally Come to an End** _

_The unpredictable and gruesome murders that had been plaguing the marketplace districts of both Muggle and magical areas seems to have come to and end this morning when an inferi was spotted in Diagon Alley and was promptly dealt with by a crowd of terrified witches and wizards._

_While no one could remember seeing it before that moment, the response was immediate._

_The murders had left a trail of bloodied corpses with no discernable pattern, and since there was more blood painting the areas surrounding each body, vampires had been ruled out since vampires tend to leave desiccated victims rather than bloodbaths._

" _It looked more like the work of old Fenrir Greyback, to be honest," one shopkeeper said with a shudder. "Savage and brutal with no care for subtlety."_

_Peace seems to have returned to the markets at last with no more incidents occurring after the inferi was found and dealt with._

_Apologies have been sent by the Ministry to the vampire ruling council for having accused them of letting "their kind" loose upon the markets to terrorise innocents._

* * *

Ginevra Weasley remained a guest at the house for a number of weeks as Sanguini worked tirelessly in reversing the effects of the "mind fuckery" that Lady Barbaneagra had done to her.

Severus worked on making antidotes for the potions that had been circulating in her body, and he had found it a good way to process what had happened that afternoon that should have been a simple outing to Diagon Alley.

He had felt Granger's distress, and Sanguini had immediately called him to his side. Severus hadn't even questioned when the vampire pulled him into a side-along—

And he had thought it was all going to be a bunch of posturing as he knew Sanguini was so fond of it— all bluster and no actual follow through.

But no.

It had been so much more than mere posturing.

Sanguini had been the enforcer for the Sânge Council, and the offender had apparently used Ginevra to lure Hermione out. Lady Barbaneagra had believed Hermione still human and thus a perfect instrument for her manipulating Sanguini to leave her hellish aberrations alone.

Miniature murderers.

Killing machines.

Child vampires.

Sanguini had thought the children of her line had been dealt with, but apparently one had survived, and his mad mother had wanted to deal with Sanguini.

Severus barely had time to admire Sanguini's attention to responsibility when Hermione had been endangered by Lady Barbaneagra, and then he had promptly lost all thought and reason.

Everything focused on protecting _her—_

And he had launched at the vampiress in a blur of transformation, surrendering to the rage and protective fury as his heart and soul demanded he protect Hermione at all costs.

By the time he regained his mind, he awoke with Hermione sleeping with her arms wrapped around him and her face buried in his mane of hair.

It felt— _right_.

He realised he felt his tails thumping against the bed and his ears swivelling. His tongue darted out to gently lick her hand.

Hermione snuggled tighter to him. "I love you," she whispered.

He barely had the time to realise he was not in his human body as her words struck him upside the head like a brick.

She loved him.

She— _loved_ him.

Suddenly, he was a man, and he rolled over to enfold the witch in his arms, pulling her against his chest as a soft whine escaped his throat.

Hermione's eyes were closed, but her hands explored his face. "Severus?"

He whined, struggling. This was Granger. Granger. Gr— "Hermione," he whispered.

The sheer radiance of her smile caused his body to shudder, and he held her tight. "Hermione," he repeated.

"Kiss me, Severus," Hermione whispered. Her eyes were still closed, but her fingertips traced his eyebrows, his nose, and jaw.

He dipped his head, his mouth seeking hers.

A blast of heated magic blew outwards as their kiss quickly transformed into something deep and passionate.

As he pulled away, she opened her eyes and stared into his. "There you are, love. I've missed you so much."

Severus let out a strangled sob as he clung tightly to her, his emotions boiling over. "How can you love me?" he whispered.

Hermione took his head between her palms. "Oh my love. How could I not? I fell in love with your soul first. The rest was pretty easy after that, after I got over habitually calling you Professor."

Snape sputtered at the confession and then realised he'd been using the name Granger as a shield just as much as she'd been using Professor. "I like you using my name," he confessed.

Hermione smiled. "The feeling is very mutual." Her smile became mischievous. "Shall we explore other mutual feelings?" Her hand roamed down his lightly furred chest to places lower.

Severus' eyes widened as he began to pant. "Hermione—" he looked at her desperately.

"I want this, Severus," she said heatedly.

He growled lowly and captured her mouth with his as he positioned himself above her. "You're sure?"

"Very sure," Hermione said.

"You're married."

Hermione's eyes wrinkled around the edges as she smiled at him. "So are you, love."

Severus' brain halted as he attempted to do simple math and came up with the Birch and Swinnerton-Dyer Conjecture instead.

"Oh," he said simply. "Well, in that case—"

His mouth covered her nearby breast as his hand sought her pleasure between her legs. She let out a shriek of ecstasy as her body arched and he covered her mouth with his, drinking in her scream as he confirmed she was indeed, thank you very much, quite ready for him.

His cock, which had been waiting not so patiently for him to realise it was there for a reason, slid into her, and she groaned in pleasure.

"Please, Severus," she moaned breathily.

He'd had never before heard his name spoken with such lust and need.

Never.

It set his brain on fire, and that fire travelled down every nerve.

He thrust again and again, each time the feel of her gradually clamping down upon his cock causing him to growl and snarl as the building pleasure was reaching toward the ecstasy of completion.

He knew he wouldn't last.

It was too perfect.

Too glorious.

Too everything to hold onto his control.

Her cries only spurred him to go even faster, and he did, driving himself to that almost-painful space where their bodies seemed to merge together completely on every plane of existence.

Her body squeezed down on him, and he was done for.

He climaxed inside her, his entire body threatening to explode into particles or individual atoms. His arms wrapped around her as his body spasmed, and her fangs sank into his throat.

He didn't think it was possible to orgasm from being bitten, but by the gods he was giving it his all. His entire body cried out in the sublime ecstasy of letting go— mind, body, and soul.

He heard a wild howling in his head, and maybe it was him.

Their magic merged together, extending outward into the Bind, sharing their ecstasy with each member as the powerful blast of magic from their consummation blew outward with heat, magic, and lust fulfilled.

As he lay there, entwined with Hermione, he panted as the feeling of fulfillment filled in every crack of his broken, battered psyche and drove Lily out of the sacred place on the pedestal of worship that he had built for her.

_**CrrrrrrakSNAP!** _

He felt something like a pressure suddenly release as if a blister had burst and the pain he hadn't realised was there instantaneously wasn't. A bright light burst from his chest as something that looked like chains emerged from his body and shattered, link by link.

He could hear a shrill feminine scream from some far away place—

An echo of Lily on the night that she had died—

And then there was only the peaceful, glorious warmth of the Bind in its place: Hermione's unconditional love, Sanguini's smug satisfaction, and Raka'ku'santi's malevolent laughter as he cackled " _ **Suck it, Jirrak'vu'nari!"**_

Severus didn't even stir as Sanguini joined them in bed and snuggled into his mate's back, and Raka'ku'santi enfolded them all in the embrace of his Darkness, sheltering them all from the insolent light of day.

* * *

**End of Chapter Two**

* * *

**A/N:** Hope you enjoyed chapter two. Bit shorter because back to work in the early morning of ALKSDGHLKDFJFGRRRRRRR- _ **THUD**_. (that's a word, really.)

Thanks to Dragon and the Rose for staying up to beta this fic, DeepShadows2 for encouraging my shenanigans, and Dutchgirl01 for popping in to remind me to _breathe_.


	3. Demonic Interference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paradise Lost

**Summary:** Sanguini/SS/HG: AU: Hermione finally gets a seeing-eye dog after all the others were afraid of her. (M for reasons)

 **Beta Love:** DeepShadows2, Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01, Flyby Commander Shepherd

 **Warning:** Probably crack.

* * *

**Gift From Hell**

Chapter Three

_Humans are amphibians - half spirit and half animal. As spirits they belong to the eternal world, but as animals they inhabit time._

**C. S. Lewis**

* * *

Lily relaxed in the blissful paradise of the afterlife. It hadn't been planned for her to die before she had been able to fully enjoy her life after school, but it was definitely better in the Great Beyond.

No hunger.

No need to work.

She didn't even have to be in a hurry to be reincarnated, so she could enjoy the delightful fruits of paradise for as long as she wanted.

She had James, and they could indulge in just as much horizontal entertainment as they desired with no risk of pregnancy.

It was _excellent_.

It made all the work she had done to ensure her success well worth it.

Admittedly, she would have preferred to have a bit of paradise on Earth so that her sister, Petunia, could be mad jealous, but a truly fabulous Afterlife seemed like a suitable enough compensation for a lifetime cut short.

She reached over to run her fingers down James' bare chest.

"Hullo," she said huskily.

James looked at her heatedly, clearly more than ready for another go.

Lily smiled winsomely, flipping her long red hair just so, and he was immediately on top of her.

The grass rustled as a warm breeze blew across them, carrying small fragrant flower petals in the air. She beamed at James, eager to have a lovely romp in the cool summer grass.

They lost their clothing easily, eager to relish each other's skin and breath. Their lips met in a fiery kiss, and it was just like the very first time their mutual lust had consumed them.

They were so lost in each other that they didn't even notice the grass around them rapidly wilting and blackening. The ground itself desiccated and crumbled as if all the moisture had instantly been sucked from it

A low malevolent chuckle broke the two lovers apart.

"Enjoying the fruits of your sacrifice, girl?"

Lily went white, her freckled skin suddenly taking on the bloodless, pale colouring of the flower she was named for.

"You owe me a soul, mortal, and the one you promised me was not as you said. It evolved. It gained immutability. Such things are useless for powering things such as your wish."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," Lily stammered nervously as James moved in front of her in an attempt to protect her.

The demon chuckled, his black hooves clacking against the parched ground. "You dare stand against me, boy? Do you think you will get very far with your wilted cock flapping in the wind? You have no idea what this cow has done to secure your affections."

"She didn't have to do _**anything**_ to secure my affection!" James yelled. "I've been in love with her ever since our fifth year in school!"

The demon's grin grew even larger as he bared jagged teeth. "Awww, how very adorable," he mocked. "Tell me, did you enjoy your insatiable libido?"

James frowned.

The demon licked his muzzle. "Did you enjoy your ability to keep going all through the night as you fucked yourself silly in every single broom closet in the school?"

"Did you enjoy your remarkable fertility despite the old man's warning that it would probably take a good few years of trying before achieving conception, considering how hard it was for males of your family to rise to the occasion?"

James was looking very confused now. He shook his head adamantly. "Lily and I are meant. I _**know**_ we were meant to be."

"Because she was the only one who managed to get it up for you. How very—" the demon drawled, "convenient. Pity you only managed to spawn one whelp before you got yourself murdered. Ratted out by your own best friend. I bet that stung, boy."

" _ **Get out of my head!"**_ James cried, clutching his hair and pulling at it in his escalating distress.

"I can make it all stop," the demon purred, "for just a little bit of soul."

"Get away from him!" Lily yelled, pulling out her wand and pointing it at the demon.

The demon chuckled, rubbing his hands over his arms. "You would point your stick at me, girl?

"You leave us alone!"

"But we have old business to discuss," the demon said.

"We have _**nothing**_ to discuss!" Lily yelled. " _ **Go away!"**_

She called on her magic and sent a vicious curse at the demon, and the demon winced as jagged cuts criss-crossed over his muzzle.

Black blood dripped from the demon's skin as his lips pulled back from his teeth. He wiped the blood with the back of his hand and growled.

"You've blooded me, wench."

"I'll do more than _**that**_ if you come any closer!" Lily cried.

"To blood a demon you have contracted is considered very rude." The demon licked the blood from his wounded face even as the wounds healed before their eyes. "It is also very freeing in the matters of now being able to touch you. Did you forget about that? Has it been so long since you huddled around candles and drew symbols on the ground that you'd forget the terms of our deal?"

Lily paled, shaking her head.

"What deal, Lily?" James demanded.

The demon laughed. "Oh, mortal, how used you've been." He sniffed. "I am Jirrak'vu'nari, the demon your wife summoned to guarantee that you were her perfect sucker."

James looked at Lily with dawning horror.

Lily shook her head. "It wasn't like that!"

"But you did summon this thing?"

Lily shook her head frantically.

"Oh, why lie now?" Jirrak snorted. "Do you think I would come all this way to lie about something like that? This place is far too bright and horrible for me to visit casually."

Jirrak points a talon at Lily. "She summoned me, promising me an unsuspecting, innocent soul in exchange for you. You mortal, and your guaranteed love, fertility, and place in society for the soul of her unsuspecting and devoted childhood friend." He smiled maliciously. "She bound her best friend's soul to me to power my spell so you would not suffer the same problems as your father— so you would have a child together. A rather misguided idiot of a child, by the way, who seems to have a very interesting fish keeping fascination at the moment. Perhaps, I could take his soul as payment for the pact—"

James saw red at the mention of his son, and he threw himself at the demon in his rage.

Jirrak put his finger to James' forehead effectively pinning him in place with his arms flailing. "You would take your neglected and misguided son's place, mortal? How _deliciously_ ironic."

" _ **No! No James!**_ " Lily cried.

"But, contracts must be honoured, and the oathbreaker must pay her piper." The demon flung James away, trapping him in magical chains that erupted from the ground like jagged vines.

"You have no idea how betrayal and Dark magic seasons the mortal soul when you are the betrayer and not the betrayed," Jirrak growled. "Your 'sacrifice' of your friend for the greater ambition. It is like sugary dark taint upon the soul. Not as powerful as a pure soul, but like candy— it is as irresistible as it is decadent."

The demon licked his lips. "And your screams will make it all the better."

"No, no, no," Lily said casting spell after spell at the demon, but each cut seemed to have less and less effect.

The wounds on the demon's skin healed quickly, and the slicing hexes on cut to the bone but then immediately knit back together. "Tch," Jirrak said, clucking his tongue.

"Your attacks upon me have voided our Bind, Summoner," he growled. "You should have researched more deeply into the magic you wielded in order to grant your wish."

Jirrak thrust his talons into Lily's chest and jerked.

And Lily screamed and screamed—

The demon pulled Lily's soul from her paradise Afterlife and dragged her into his realm, a smug, malevolent smile on his muzzle.

"Thank the Dark Powers for people like you, mortal," Jirrak said. "Life would be so utterly boring if people did their research."

* * *

Far away at St Mungos, Harry James Potter woke up from a sound sleep screaming that his mum had been dragged down into the Underworld by a demon.

* * *

"I don't think you really want me to do that," Hermione said as her hand lay gently on Snape's head.

The Ministry official shook his head as he eyed the huge dog warily.

Snape glared at him, his ears pinned back against his head in a definitive scowl.

"Mrs Sanguini," the man said. "You are the only authorised practitioner of the demonic arts in centuries. We simply have no other in which we can call to do this."

"I hardly call having an ancient artefact embedded into my sternum and soul makes me a qualified 'practitioner,' Mr Salisbury," Hermione answered. "I did not study under a master and do copious amounts of research on the field."

Salisbury eyed her warily, and Hermione knew he saw the subtle change in her features. They were small things that added up to a bigger picture that reminded someone who was looking that something was different— something inhuman.

Sanguini said it would take time to realise those things that instinctively revealed such things and thus hide them, but she had the strange mixture of being not only closely bound to Sanguini but to her demons. It felt different now that Severus had begun to accept his duality and the choices of his soul— perhaps it was that he realised his soul hadn't made a horrible choice unlike other choices he had made as a teenager.

Snape nudged her hand and encouraged more petting, and she smiled as her hand soothed and rubbed his ears affectionately.

"I will do as the Ministry requests, Mr Salisbury, but I do not think it will have the response anyone is hoping for," Hermione said. "Demons have very little respect for those they are not in or pursuing a bind with and even if they are in a bind with them, that does not guarantee respect. If there is demon lording over Harry in some way, you may not like the reason why."

"The Ministry would like to know if he is truly being influenced by the demonic or otherworldly, Mrs Sanguini."

Hermione's eyes flashed as Snape snarled and pounced Salisbury to the floor, his muzzle twisted in a jagged, black-foamed snarl. "You mean, like you?"

All hell broke loose as the Aurors and Unspeakables descended upon the plain-looking innocuous wizard known as Mr Salisbury. A dark cloud of vapour streamed out of his nose and mouth, escaping only to have it sucked into a small box that closed with a clack.

"Thank you, Master Granger," Amelia Bones said with a sigh. "We had been trying to free Salisbury of this particular imp for months, but it had a particular steadfastness we could not intimidate."

Hermione sniffed and nodded. "I am happy to assist, Madam Bones. But, he did bring up an interesting point. What has happened to Harry?"

Amelia sighed. "We think he may be being haunted by demons."

"His own or someone else's?"

Amelia frowned. "I feel this is a loaded question, but does it matter?"

"Depends on the Bind," Hermione said soberly. "It could be like this man who was possessed by a lesser demon that was hiding in an object just waiting for the right person to pounce or it could be a true Bind whose terms were so badly written that it has free reign to do it wants. I fear if you are looking for an expert, I cannot be that for you, Madam Bones. I can only go with what I've learned from having my hand forced into learning."

"We would appreciate you taking a look into it, Master Granger," Amelia said. "We need to know if it is something we can fight, or if Mr Potter needs to be isolated from other patients at Mungos. While we'd prefer if he would be influence free, I would like to know if it is even possible."

"And what would happen to him if he were to be free of such things?"

"There is the not so small matter of him having commandeered Severus Snape's property and defied his will, but since the Wizengamot has already ruled on reparations at least financially—" Amelia trailed off, shaking her head. "We would prefer if he were cognisant of his infractions and have some sort of mental restitution as well. There is the matter of his time served as an Auror and whether other laws were conveniently ignored during his service."

Snape growled, and Hermione lay a calming hand between his ears. He seemed to mutter to himself in dogese, but he gave Hermione's hand an appeasing lick.

"Very well, Madam Bones," Hermione said grimly. "I will look into his case."

* * *

Sanguini arrived home to find Hermione snuggled up against Raka'ku'santi in a winged embrace with Snape taking up the majority of the chesterfield in order to lay his head in Hermione's lap. The telly was on, but the screen was sitting on a main menu splash screen for Sky One.

Raka stirred slightly as he entered, giving him a nod, but Hermione was burrowed deep like a tick into his supernatural warmth and utterly oblivious to his presence.

"Long day?" Sanguini asked, a rumble of pure amusement in his voice.

Snape's tails thumped a greeting, but his head remained tucked against Hermione's lap.

"She wished to speak to you of a Ministry request," Raka rumbled. "It does not make her happy, but I believe it will require our assistance. I have already said I would help if she requires it."

Sanguini nodded and touched Hermione's cheek. She stirred slightly, captured his hand and dragged him down into the pile, pulling him off his feet into an undignified cuddle.

"I strongly suspect entrapment," Sanguini said, closing his eyes in pleasure as Hermione's mouth worked on his neck as if choosing a good place to latch on. Sanguini chuckled, tilting his head to the side and drawing a claw across his skin to encourage her, and his eyes rolled back in ecstasy as she latched on, the thrum of their bond beating like powerful drums deep within his soul. It made him more than happy to provide for his beloved mate, and it was even more special that she restricted her feeding to the three of them rather than starving herself and then going hunting out in the world before she was truly well-practiced in her controls.

Fledgling vampires often lost their everloving minds at the merest hint of blood, and it all stemmed from a ravenous hunger that they tried to ignore until it was far too late. Thankfully, Hermione had not just himself but Severus and Raka'ku'santi were both willing to assist, and the irony was pretty thick that demon blood was like a rich vampire chocolate that both deeply satisfied and lasted considerably longer than a human feed.

Hermione hadn't realised how special it was that she had trusted him as steadfastly as she had, and she took to his guidance much like she had when she'd been his apprentice. The relationship of learning would now be lifelong, but the trust had already been built. The hurdles had already been conquered, and her Turning had been an act of love rather than politics.

In the vampire world, that was rare in itself.

Lady Barbaneagra's Turning had been because her husband had loved her. Her Turning her children has been a misguided wish to have her children with her forever. It had _not_ ended well, and there were rules against Turning men or women with children who were not yet fully grown.

Lady Barbaneagra's story was rather extreme, to be sure, but the vampires had lost Lord Barbaneagra because of their mistake not to delve deep enough to know he was both with young children and very much in love with his wife—

It was a lesson that would be passed down for quite some time to warn those who thought turning someone in the heat of passion ever turned out well.

His relationship with Hermione had been cultivated over the past decade, and they had discussed her acceptance of his true bond and being Turned on many occasions. Never would he have Turned her in the heat of passion without having discussed it with her— it would have been a betrayal of her trust, and trust and communication was something one had to have to survive century after century together.

Turning her in the heat of passion with her permission, however, was perfectly acceptable, thank goodness.

There were always young vampires trying to make exceptions to the rules thinking that their love would be different, and that their choices could be exceptions. They turned their lovers in the heat of the moment, and (if they survived the fledgling's rage or insanity) they learned why the rules were rules and not just suggested guidelines.

Sanguini blamed how mainstreamed vampires had become in human society. The moment vampires such as Dracula became immortalised by cinema and fiction, they started to become sexual icons, and the most modern depictions often had them as immortal teenagers—

Something real vampires knew were just asking for trouble.

Immortal teenage angst was not something anyone on the Sânge Council wanted to tolerate for any amount of time.

Hermione's soft hum of satisfaction broke him from his contemplation as he drifted on a cloud of pleasure. "I've wanted to speak with you about a situation."

"I'm listening," he murmured, adjusting himself so he wasn't half sprawled over her, Raka, and Snape all at once.

Hermione's eyes were half-lidded with pleasant satiety. "The Ministry wants to know if Harry is being influenced by demons. He apparently woke at Mungos screaming that a demon had dragged his mum to the Underworld."

"Probably true," Raka'ku'santi said, itching his cheek with a wing spur.

Hermione propped herself up and gave Raka with an appraising eye. "Why do you make being dragged into the Underworld sound both casual and sexy at the same time?"

Raka smiled at her, his tongue flicking across his fangs. "You think I'm sexy?"

Hermione flushed, eyes darting to find a safe place to stare, but it was hard considering she had almost every direction filled.

Sanguini chuckled. "Don't mind me, I like to watch," he said, showing bit a glint of fangy mischief.

Snape's tails thumped on the ground merrily in approval.

Hermione groaned. "You too?"

Raka'ku'santi pouted. "Don't you like me?"

"Oh believe me, that is not the problem," Hermione muttered.

His fingers clasped her chin as he turned her head to look at him. "There is no shame in having such feelings to those in your Bind. Feelings must be real for them to be Bound. Someplace, somewhere inside you, you're already decided such things, but I can be patient. Eager, but— patient."

"I don't want to make anyone feel less included," Hermione said. "What I feel for all of you is powerful and— confusing. I've never considered that it would be possible to care for more than one person in a relationship. My parents were and are unrepented monogamists, which I think is great considering some people have problems keeping it in their pants—"

"I think, love," Sanguini said, "you are comparing a wizard who gets around and engages in multiple affairs and supposed open relationships with a solid, equal, communicative relationship with us as a closed group. We have already discussed the possibility that I may have to do some wining and dining with the mortals in my job description, but I will never conceal from you exactly who, when, and where such things will be. They will also mean nothing to me, while you, my dear, are everything. There can be passion between all of us in multiple ways, and as long as we are all okay with that, then there is no shame in it."

"I find it is easier to accept that framework considering the time span we will be together. It would be, perhaps, different if I was limited to one lifetime. I truly want each of you to feel wanted and needed just as I do, but I hope you can all communicate with me when something is bothering you. Or if you're happy. Just to know."

Snape growleruffed, taking her sleeve in his mouth as his tails wagged.

Hermione kissed Snape on the forehead. "I do not want any of you to think you are lesser in my eyes, and if I am failing you in some way, please tell me so I can address it. It is— rather new to me."

"We must all communicate as well as we can in this," Sanguini said. "We care about each other, and it should never be something that lurks in the dark and festers. If something bothers us, we must say something, yes? Because even in the most loving of relationships we can trip and wonder where we went wrong. We must never assume. We should be clear, but that doesn't mean we have to micromanage and be militant about our daily activities. There must be trust too."

Ruff, Snape said, agreeing, tails a-waggin'.

"See? The hound agrees. Truly we must be set for life," Sanguini said with a chuckle.

Sanguini frowned. "On a serious note, beloved, we should have a safe word between all of us. If anything should ever get too heated, too strange, or too something— this word should immediately bring whatever it is to a stop. It should be a word we do not use commonly so there is no confusion in regular conversation."

"Brass monkeys," Hermione suggested. "Should we have a safe word specifically for when there is danger another may not suspect?"

Sanguini nodded. "A good idea. Perhaps 'sauvignon blanc'?"

Hermione agreed as Snape whufted, giving a long tongue and tentacled yawn. Raka'ku'santi chuckled. "As you wish."

Sanguini leaned down and gave Hermione a tender kiss. "I will take the hound and go for a walk. The moon is full, and the forest is beautiful. Come on, Snape. Let us give our love some time with Raka'ku'santi without feeling self conscious. Perhaps Severus will finally accept my advances under the pale of the distant moon."

Snape browled, cocking his head.

"Or his soul will just give me funny looks," Sanguini said, resigned. He placed his hand over his heart. "I am doomed to forever admire his finely chiseled, perfectly pale body with only his scowl adorning his face."

Hermione threw a pillow at him.

Sanguini laughed, taking Snape out for their walk.

Raka'ku'santi rumbled lowly, and Hermione felt a shiver run down her spine.

"Mihail didn't answer my question about Harry," Hermione said, giving Raka a look somewhere between accusation and arousal.  
Raka placed his fingers on his chin and drew her head closer as his breath tickled her face. "Oh, I'm sure they will come back after they settle some deeply seated, concealed desires."

Hermione swallowed. "Am I so blind?"

"Raka'ku'santi laughed. "Hermione, I am thousands of your mortal years old and then some. I have seen many, many desires come and go. Hidden or not. As a demon, it is my lot in life, my speciality to know what drives desire and hate, love and— obsession. Our Severus had been neglected for more years than most mortals, but he is just discovering the safety that our Bind gives him. To breathe. To live. To lust and love. To be loved. And we are blessed in that the Bind does not allow for falsities like one would have in a mortal relationship. He can lie to himself, of course, but we cannot lie to each other. His soul knows this. It is comfortable and trusting in it. The man, however, must come to terms, but can you imagine anyone more capable of persuading him to feel okay with his own unexplored desires than Sanguini?"

Hermione breathed in Raka'ku'santi's dark breath, eyes fluttering. "He doesn't really stand a chance," she confessed.

"No, I suppose he doesn't." Raka smiled, his tongue slid between her lips as he engaged her in a deep, sensual kiss. "Nor do you, lover, if it is what you truly want."

Hermione could barely claim enough oxygen to her brain. Part of her questioned if she really needed oxygen anymore, but the other part of her told that part to shut the front door and enjoy Raka'ku'santi's talented tongue, fingers, and—

"Merlin and Circe's menagerie," Hermione cursed, her pants transforming to almost shrieks as Raka's hands roamed across her skin, breasts, and lower.

"Your touch should be illegal," she groaned as her hands sought contact with his skin, hair, and horns.

"Oh, love," the demon rumbled. "I am illegal to be summoned in most circles— but not for you, my darling. For you, I am exactly what you can have forever."

"A demon with so many talents," Hermione murmured as he ran hot kisses down her neck and arm.

"Practice makes perfect," Raka'ku'santi replied. "Every bit of pleasure grows our power all the more. Most humans think we are all about doom and gloom, and while there is a certain joy in watching people writhe and jerk about on hooks of their own making, those of us who know better prefer more pleasurable power bases."

He kissed her again, and their bodies came together heatedly as his wings wrapped around her, undulating to her hips movement as he buried himself within her.

Hermione whimpered with need even as part of her brain protested something. "You vanished my clothes!"

Raka ran his tongue around her ear and inside with a wiggle. "Mmmhmm."

"Oh, gods, don't stop," she groaned as her climax approached quickly, the combination of hands, tongue, and his cock pushing every button she hadn't even realised had been there. She'd thought Sanguini and Severus had prepared her for sexual pleasure, but apparently, there were still things to be learned, and Hermione cried out as the world seemed to fade around the edges as stars flitted in and out of her visions, only—

Hermione groaned as ecstasy built and she convulsed again. Raka wrapped her tightly in his wings and licked the side of her cheek.

"Mmmm, feel good, lover?"

Hermione gasped. "Gods, how many times am I going to—AHHHGGGKK!"

She clawed him as he brought her to climax again— and again.

Her body shuddered as her entire nervous system seemed to be setting off a fireworks celebration. She panted, her muscles twitching, a soft wheeze escaping her lips.

Raka'ku'santi breathed out a dark cloud of vapour that seemed to swirl around Hermione's head before shooting up her nostrils and into her mouth. Her eyes fluttered, as she let out a loud sigh of contentment.

They lay entangled and unmoving for quite some time, the only movement being Raka's breaths and Hermione moving slowly up and down as she lay snuggled into him.

"So," Raka rumbled. "What do you think of demons?"

Hermione opened one eye. "I can't speak for every demon, but you and Severus are 500% keepers."

Raka'ku'santi smiled.

The door opened, and Raka eyed Sanguini and Severus as they walked in. Severus' robes were uncharacteristically dishevelled, his face flushed, and lips rather red and moist.

"Hnnn," Raka'ku'santi rumbled, his tongue slithering out to flick across his muzzle. "Have a good… walk?"

Severus jerked his head and stormed down the corridor that shortcutted to his potions laboratory, his robes billowing behind him.

Sanguini sat on the chesterfield and grabbed the remote with a smug, knowing smile. "So, what movie shall we watch tonight?"

"Practical Magic," Hermione mumbled as she tried to extract herself from Raka's warmth unsuccessfully.

Sanguini chuckled. "Excellent. Budge over a bit my large, winged friend," he said.

Raka adjusted himself so Hermione could be sandwiched between them effectively.

Snape bounded in from the laboratory with a bowl full of freshly popped and butter popcorn, hopped up to join them, and plopped the giant bowl of snacks between them. His tails wagged excitedly as the movie started.

Hermione looked over Raka'ku'santi's wing. "Can I have my clothes back?" she asked.

"No," Sanguini and Raka'ku'santi said together as Snape barked.

Hermione snuggled into Raka's wing and pulled it over her like a blanket, muttering that she was outnumbered.

"Yes, I will go with you to St Mungos," Sanguini said randomly as the movie played.

Hermione smiled. "Thank you, Mihail."

Sanguini clasped her hand in his. "We all stand together, love. Now more than ever, our bonds are strong."

* * *

**End of Chapter 3**

* * *

**A/N:** This weekend and the next week is going to be non-stop work. I have no idea when I'll have time to write.

Thanks to DeepShadows2 for providing virtual tea to keep me company. I'm going to need a lot of real tea to be up at the arse-crack of dawn for work in the morning. Well wishes to Dragon and the Rose who is feeling under the weather this week.

Be well, everyone.


	4. Chapter 4: Bluebells and Blue Balls

**Beta Love:** Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01, Flyby Commander Shepherd, DeepShadows2

* * *

**Gift From Hell**

Chapter Four

_If you ever start feeling like you have the goofiest, craziest, most dysfunctional family in the world, all you have to do is go to a state fair. Because five minutes at the fair, you'll be going, 'You know, we're all right. We are dang near royalty'._

**Jeff Foxworthy**

* * *

"You're evil," Hermione said as she sipped her tea.

Raka'ku'santi's tail curled in a loop, the spade flipping back and forth. "Mmm."

"And thank you for the tea," she said pressing a kiss against the side of his muzzle.

Raka'ku'santi's expression grew heated, but the sound of Ginny's tromping down the hallway caused him to assume his butler guise.

"Pity," he muttered.

Suddenly, Severus was there, silently staring at her.

Hermione sipped her tea as she wondered why he was staring at her.

He made a soft whining sound, staring pointed at her.

Hermione slowly handed over her tea only to have Severus grasp it in both hands, sit on the counter stool, and stuff his face into the cup to drink the entire thing down.

Hermione blinked.

Severus stood and dipped his head, covering her mouth with his in a snog to end all snogs that had ever snogged.

"Thanks for the tea," he said as he pulled away.

Hermione saw stars. "Anytime," she squeaked.

"Herrrrr myyyy kneeee!" Ginny whinged as she opened the fridge looking for food. "Why don't you have anything good to eat in the fidge?"

"Fridge, Ginny, and it's not like the Burrow where Molly hides food everywhere. You have to make things with ingredients.

Ginny groaned. "Don't you have a spell to do it?"

"You have how many kids?"

Ginny poured herself a glass of milk and drank it down. "A few."

Hermione gave Ginny a sideways glance. "A few for a Weasley is more than most families have across multiple generations.

Ginny shrugged. "Just three," she said.

Hermione shook her head. "As I said. More than most families have across multiple generations."

"I'm not like my mom and dad," Ginny said.

"Says the woman with three children—" Hermione trailed off. "Though you do fail at cooking, so maybe that is partially true."

Ginny smacked Hermione on the shoulder.

"If you are anything like you were in Potions, I dread to think how your children survived to eat solid food," Severus said, wrinkling his nose.

Ginny grunted.

Hermione made a face. "Ginny, you said you did well in potions."

"Better than her peers who were trying to die every day, yes," Severus said. "But she was far more interested in making her own broom polish than paying attention to her lessons."

Hermione stared at Ginny who was trying very hard to crawl into the fruit basket and die.

"I can't even," Hermione said as she grabbed an apple from the counter and bit into it. She walked away before her brain came up with anything else more horrifying than "brewing broom polish" during Potions class.

Despite her current living situation, she had never planned to be where she was. She had never forgiven herself for having a crush on Gilderoy Lockhart, and she had definitely tried to self-Oblivate any and all recollection of having fancied Ronald Weasley for anything other than a friend. Even there— that was obviously not working.

Ginny followed her over to the Chesterfield despite the other furniture that was perfectly suited for her. "Hermione, how long do I have to stay here with you guys? Not that I don't appreciate it and all, but you aren't letting me invite my kids here to stay with me, and I'm surrounded by all these really delicious-looking men, and I just really need a good shag—"

" _ **GINEVRA!"**_ Hermione hissed. "You are here to unscramble your brain after a vampire attack and treat your body after being under the influence of a potion that addled your senses. This is _not_ a college student springbreak holiday beach safari where you drink until you have no brain and then fuck yourself raw until you wake up a week later pregnant and carrying STIs! And if that is the kind of thing you are thinking about, then there is no _way_ I would have you inviting your children here to witness it!"

Hermione's scowl reminded Ginny of something unpleasant that was deeply ingrained in her subconscious, and she found herself suddenly quite uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, but I'm so bloody stir crazy!" Ginny whined. "I just— want… I really _need_ some release!"

Hermione's nose wrinkled as her lips slightly pulled back from her teeth in a distinct grimace.

"Don't you have sports journalism articles to write, Ginny?"

"Hermione," Ginny whinged. "Can't you just go to one of those stuffy conferences you're always going to and let me have some cuddle time with Sanguini?"

Hermione froze in place, her emotions moving from shock to anger to disbelief.

Suddenly she narrowed her eyes and looked into her friend's eyes.

"Sanguini is taken," Severus said as he bit into a sausage. "He is no longer up for grabs."

"Wh-what?" Ginny blurted.

Severus tugged at the cravat around his neck, purposely exposing one of Sanguini's love bites. "His dance card is full."

Ginny stared.

"It is impolite to stare," Severus said, his voice a low growl.

Ginny stared at her lap. "It's not fair. Next you're going to say your butler is married."

"I am quite taken, ma'am," Raka'ku'santi said as he served a breakfast fry up. "But thank you for asking."

Ginny sank deep into the chesterfield and tried to smother herself with one of the nearby pillows. "So not fair."

"Breakfast is served," Raka'ku'santi said.

"Thank you," Hermione said standing to walk over to the table, and seeing that Ginny still was smothering herself, pressed a kiss on Raka's cheek.

Raka'ku'santi rumbled and pulled out the dining chair for her. Severus joined her at the table, but he eyed Hermione intently as she lifted the sausage to her mouth.

Hermione raised her eyebrow.

Severus swallowed, tongue flicking across his bottom lip.

Hermione took a bite as Severus gave her soulful eyes. She sighed and extended her fork.

Severus took the other half of the sausage link between his teeth and pulled it off, chewing happily.

She shook her head in resignation and amusement, but when Severus' hand covered hers under the table she could only smile as Snape's phantom tails beat against the floor and the warmth of his presence filled her from head to toe.

* * *

As Hermione zombie-shuffled toward the morning tea, Sanguini eyed Snape surrounded in the shreds of a pulverised Prophet. Tiny bits of paper lay in all directions in the middle of the living room.

"Having a bit of a disagreement with the news, love?" Sanguini asked.

The hellfiend wagged his tail, a canine grin of smug satisfaction on his muzzle.

He tore into what looked like a fuzzy slipper and ravaged it into bits.

Sanguini sighed. "I'm going to have to keep a closer eye on my slippers."

"That wasn't your slipper," Raka'ku'santi said as he started to cook breakfast.

Sanguini looked around the counter to see Raka'ku'santi was wearing two types of slippers. One a stately looking black slipper and one looking very much like a fuzzy white bunny slipper.

"I see."

"I desire a slipper allowance," Raka said, deadpan.

Sanguini raised his eyebrows. "We'll take it out of Snape's toy fund."

Snape hung his head, whining. He set his head down over the remains of the mauled slipper in a sorrowful cuddle.

* * *

Hermione didn't want to go to St Mungo's.

It was a bit petty of her, she figured, but they had been one of the first to turn down her application for an apprenticeship back when she had been trying so hard to continue her education after the war.

While she did not lose any respect for the quality of the healers who worked there, she did not appreciate the politics of the place— politics that had seen her shunned and blocked from apprenticeships and forced to work in a very disheartening position with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

Still, had she not gone through all that, she realised, she would not have likely ended up apprenticing with Sanguini, and much of what she'd since been able to harness as an independent witch would never have been.

Oddly, no one questioned her bringing Snape along in his guide harness, as many had heard of her blindness but very few had realised or recognised that she had been cured of it. Many assumed he was a familiar, which wasn't too far from the truth. Hermione found that she was quite amused by how they treated her thinking she was blind. There were times, too, that she deliberately closed her eyes to get a sense of people without the distraction of deceiving visual tells.

It helped her not make judgments on appearance, and she had to admit that was probably a good thing. She had learned to value Snape and Raka'ku'santi without her sight, and Severus' soul had basically gotten to know her from the ultimately alien perspective of a hellfiend first. Neither of them had exactly met in the traditional way.

She had to admit, though, that she couldn't imagine a complete sense of home without all of them there sharing it any more than she could imagine her living room without the old chesterfield being there.

The cooler colours and "living" murals of the Mungos walls greeted her, and she admitted that it was more calming than drab and sterile walls she saw in some Muggle hospitals.

The healer that was treating Harry met her at the main healer's station on the first floor that catered to those with creature-induced injuries. While he wasn't specifically injured physically, they had decided that the locked Janus Thickey Ward on the fourth floor and even the regular fourth floor for spell damage was not quite what Harry's ultimate needs were about. She, on the other hand, had been to the ground floor many times regarding her being affected by an artefact, but the depth of the amulet's inner workings had been beyond the scope of the hospital's expertise.

Harry was suspected of being under the influence of something sinister, and the only way to be sure of it was to release the fish obsession Sanguini had put upon him the night Ron had disappeared. Harry's condition would never have happened had he not been so adamant about insulting a vampire as old as Sanguini, and the laws regarding vampires had basically said "if you are stupid enough to take on a vampire at all, let alone one centuries-old, don't be surprised if it wipes the floor with you, mentally, physically, or magically."

And since Sanguini had not, in fact, physically broken Harry, he had gotten off very easily.

Part of Hermione's reasoning in advocating for vampire rights to rule over themselves (and it was no secret they had a perfectly good system in place long before it was officially acknowledged) was that magical humans had enough enemies and wasting lives fighting each other and those that shared the magical world was just asking for another Voldemort to come waltzing in and making everyone have a bad day.

Sure, it wouldn't be perfect.

Sure, there would always be someone too big for their trousers, but it was better to have more allies than enemies, and making enemies out of the goblin and vampire nations was just not a good idea.

Sanguini had said that Hermione had been too valuable to kill, and apparently, that was something the vampire council took very seriously. Had she been Turned or not, she had proven her worth through deed without expecting compensation (and she had iron balls according to Lord Tilmun, which was apparently a compliment for those that didn't know the ancient Sumerian vampire's leanings.) Lord Tilmun had, even more strangely, supported her at her first Council meet— the meet she hadn't even realised was the Vampire Council until after.

It had been mortifying to find out after she had stood up to and insulted more than one of the Council that had chosen to pick on her. Lord Tilmun had laughed and said he hadn't had such entertainment in centuries, and she had his support to be just the way she was.

Ancient as he was, none of the other Council members could protest his support without insulting him, which had given Sanguini no end to his smug satisfaction.

Politics, vampire or otherwise, was just too entangled for Hermione. She felt she was still learning how to live one life just before being thrown into another one.

Snape was chewing contentedly on a Swizzels Refresher fizzy sherbet bar that Sanguini had transformed into a miniature fender to keep the hellfiend happy, and it was making him foam bubblegum pink at the mouth. Hermione had to giggle a little at the sight even if she half expected human-Severus to materialise and give her the scowl of perpetual damnation that he'd perfected in all his years of teaching blithering dunderheads.

"Healer Roberts," Hermione greeted.

"Master Granger," he said with a nod. "Thank you for coming."

Hermione followed the healer as he led her through the twisting hallways feeling like she was walking through the labyrinth with a minotaur in hot pursuit. The room they had placed Harry in was apparently away from the majority of the patients, their concern for his condition affecting other patients more of a grey area of the unknown and cautious. She could tell there were no visitors coming into the secluded area he was in, and being scanned for "any dangerous substances, objects, or gifts" upon entry had amused her greatly considering just whose company she was keeping.

By far, Sanguini, Raka'ku'santi, and Snape were dangerous beings in and of themselves, and technically she was too if she was being honest with herself. Sanguni had been insistent that she feed upon one of them the moment she was peckish to prevent any instinctual losses of control due to sudden bouts of hunger. She had done so, trusting his judgment, and there had been no moments that she felt compelled to fall upon someone and drink from them. Even the smell of blood— normal blood— did not appeal to her. There was something about the mixture of magic and supernatural that came from their specific blood that met all her requirements like a well-chosen bottle of wine or the _perfect_ cuppa.

She'd read about those who didn't believe what their Sires told them about taking care to sate their needs, thinking they had everything well under control, and then ending up slaughtering their own families in fits of hunger when they went to visit them. Such rebellion in the newly Turned was not uncommon when there was no preexisting bond between the newly Turned and their Sire which was why more often than not the Council was adamant that those one Turned both knew it was going to happen and that an established bond be implemented beforehand.

Hermione had been fortunate. She had a good decade now under her belt apprenticing under Sanguini before she'd even had the "talk" with Sanguini during which she'd learned that the Council considered her important enough to Turn. She had the choice whether to accept, but she had never doubted the significance of the "offer" rather than being subjugated and made into a thrall. To their credit, they had respected her need to get used to the idea, and it made her all the more glad she had advocated for the vampires just as much as the elves, goblins, and centaurs.

Vampires were exceedingly notorious for being hard to impress in the circles that knew better than to think they were just bloodsucking, mindless monsters. There were a few out there that made the misconceptions of them fall to Muggle film and literature as a baseline, and it was both amusing and horrifying just how badly the truth fared against prejudice created by the media and rampaging imaginations.

Her musing fell to the wayside as she was brought into Harry's room, and Snape paused in his foaming at the mouth chewing to sniff the room. He laid his ears back and then went back to chewing on his candy fender, the sticky confection sticking to his teeth and making a web of sugar strings between his fangs.

"Would you prefer me to give you time alone or remain here?" Healer Roberts asked. "I will admit to some professional curiosity as to what can be done that we haven't already tried."

"Alas, Healer, they are not techniques that would be teachable without certain innate abilities," Sanguini said meaningfully. "Unless you are contemplating certain lifestyle changes on an eternal basis."

Roberts blinked. "Oh," he said with a spark of realisation. "That could explain, if it works, why it could work after all of our efforts have not."

Raka'ku'santi rumbled lowly. "If you wish to stay, you could, but you may wish to stand in a circle of salt and a properly protective warding circle. If what is plaguing him is demonic in nature— we would not want you," Raka'ku'santi trailed off as he jerked his head slightly to the side in an unnervingly inhuman manner, "damaged."

Roberts seemed torn, and Hermione recognised that insatiable curiosity she often found in her own reflection. "I will draw you the circle, but you must promise not to move no matter what happens."

He nodded. "I would appreciate it, Master Granger."

The walls of Harry's room were all magicked to look like moving fish in an aquarium, and Hermione wondered if Harry's obsession even twisted his magic to make everything related to fish keeping or if somehow the room was enchanted to show whatever was the most calming for whoever was in it.

She had to admit the underwater scenes were as real as having visited the newer Sea Life Centre London Aquarium and a few others she had visited as a child with her parents. Alas, such peaceful outings with her parents were only memories. There had been a Wizarding aquarium that was more of a biosphere in the ocean itself which had fascinated her, but she hadn't gone back to see it since Luna had stripped down and dove into one of the containment areas to rescue a "Nagledar Vapourfish" that apparently was scared of clothing of any sort.

While Hermione hadn't been the one diving into the place in her starkers, it was hard to look anyone there in the eye after having Luna run at her completely naked holding onto an invisible fish that only Luna could see whilst crowing "See, Hermione?! Isn't she beautiful?"

Taking out a bag of salt, Hermione walked up to Raka'ku'santi and opened the bag as his head dipped down and engaged her in a heated kiss. Their magic merged together, and his mind guided her magic to spread the salt into the perfect circle of runes and symbols— one around Harry, one around the room itself, and one around Healer Roberts.

As Raka pulled away, his tongue darting out with demonic smugness, he growled in approval.

"You're going to make me jealous," Sanguini complained, his fingers tracing under Hermione's jawline. "Save some for me."

Hermione felt a tingle in her lower regions and narrowed her eyes. "Focus please."

"Oh, my beloved. I am so very focused," Sanguini purred.

Thank the gods Severus was currently Snape and not talking at the same time, she thought. She wanted to crawl out of her clothes and pounce Sanguini as it was, and she could normally control that impulse, thank you very much.

Add in the man who could read her the bloody dictionary and have her ready to latch onto him like an enamoured octopus, and she'd be doomed—

So very, very doomed.

And sated—

But doomed.

No, she projected at Sanguini. We will not break this poor healer's mind by snogging each other silly in the middle of the hospital.

Sanguini tilted his head, an expression of disappointment on his face. "Pity," he said aloud as he walked over to where Harry was staring at the wall's aquatic scene.

He stood over Harry and with a movement of his hand had Harry meet his eyes.

Harry stared at Sanguini, entranced.

"Alas, Mr Potter," Sanguini said. "It is time for you to put aside your avid study of ichthyology, despite how wonderfully suited you were to it."

For a moment, Harry just stared at him blankly, but then he shook his head and frowned. He stared at Sanguini a moment and then his face twisted into instinctive revulsion. "Leech," he hissed, his hands searching for his wand.

Sanguini narrowed his eyes. "That is not very nice, Mr Potter. Surely, you learned better manners in Auror sensitivity training." Sanguini stroked the ruffle on his shirt before turning and walking toward Hermione.

Harry scowled at Sanguini's back, still searching for his wand, but when he saw Hermione standing and waiting with her giant dog, his body drooped with automatic guilt. "Hermione."

"Hello, Harry," Hermione said.

"Where am I? Why am I here?" Harry asked. He stared at the healer and his lime-green robes as his mind pieced together where he was. There was a tall wall of a man next to Hermione that made the intimidation of the Dark Lord Voldemort seem like a silly child's roleplay, yet at the same time it was hard to pinpoint _exactly_ what made him so. For all appearances, the man was well dressed, had said nothing threatening, and had an almost formal demeanour.

But something about the bloke made his brain tingle.

"You are here, Mr Potter because you awoke screaming your head off that your mother had been dragged off into the Underworld by a demon."

Harry jerked his head up to eye the healer. The walls of the room had shifted from peaceful and serene seascapes into a series of epic Quidditch scenes. His expression seemed to pinch as his brows knit. Connections visibly fired behind his eyes as his mind pieced together what was hiding in his subconscious. He stumbled forward, but the circle around his feet flashed. He smashed into the ward, his hands crawling up the barrier like that of a mime patting an invisible wall. "What's— _Why_ can't I move out of—?"

Hermione closed her eyes, taking in a deep, steadying breath. "What have you done, Harry?"

Harry moved his hands over the barrier and frowned. "Let me out of here."

Hermione shook her head. "What did you agree to?"

Harry pounded on the barrier. " _ **Let me out of here, Hermione!"**_

"Do reya mikana," Raka'ku'santi said. "Soju na mier."

"Who did you Bind with, Harry?" Hermione asked heavily, her face very grim.

Harry's body seemed to shudder violently.

" _ **Let me out of here!"**_ his voice seemed odd as if overlaid by another voice.

" _Droi'ka zat_ ," Raka'ku'santi growled. "It is an unwanted visitor. A parasite."

Hermione looked at him, puzzled.

Sanguini scanned Harry's posture and face. "Desperate people often say very impulsive things, love. And sometimes the darkness listens and answers their call."

"Sometimes, my Summoner," Raka said, "the young or the inept must find other ways to enter this world. They are not strong enough to attract Contracts or Binds. They are too impatient. Too full of themselves."

"Much like the newly turned," Sanguini said. "Thankfully our Hermione is an exception rather than one of the more common youth."

"I'm not exactly a spring chicken, Mihail," Hermione said, narrowing her eyes.

"If everyone is a child to our Sanguini," Raka rumbled. "What would that make him to me?"

"A speck in eye of long-dead father, I'm sure," Sanguini complained as he walked up to the ring around Harry and appraised him.

Harry snarled, baring his teeth in a distinctively inhuman gesture.

Sanguini raised a brow. "Let me give you a word to the wise. Immortality is no reason not to floss."

"Harry" seemed taken off-guard by the comment and frowned, pausing his assault on the barrier.

"He's mine, _sha-ka,_ " Harry said in a growl. "He called, desperate for help to save his mummy from the bad, bad demon."

"You call me old and shrivelled?" Raka'ku'santi asked, his eyebrow raising. "You think my age is something that makes me weak? Oh, but there is no Bind about you, which means you are either too young to make one or too stupid to understand the advantages."

"Advantages? To being bound like a _dog_?" Harry's lips curved into a sneer that Hermione had never before seen on his face.

"Ah, the young, the unbelievably stupid," Raka'ku'santi with a low rumble. "Perhaps, you will not live long enough to understand the pleasure of finding the One, the Summoner who actually gives a shite about your misbegotten life? The freedom of being able to care about something other than your own backside— the ecstasy of passion returned not for power or long life, money or fame." Raka's smirk seemed to resemble a certain potion master's. "Or an empty, magic-induced love."

The demon inside Harry seemed to lose some of its hold on his host as the real Harry responded to Raka'ku'santi's strategically placed jibe at his mother.

"You said you would _**help**_ her!" Harry yelled.

"I said I would help you, but you never specified _**HOW!**_ " he argued with himself.

"And _**how**_ have you helped me?!" Harry cried, tearing at his own hair.

Harry's face twisted into a strange, predatory smile. "To _suffer_."

"Ah, well, as much as this angst-ridden drama feeds me such beautiful feelings of profound emotional conflict," Raka'ku'santi said. "You will release the _boy,_ or I will feed upon you, _droi'ka zat._ Or shall I call you out by Name, and give you over to my Summoner to banish from this world— in pieces?"

"I am here by invitation, _sha-ka_ ," the demon inside Harry gloated. "You cannot banish me. Such exquisite feelings of guilt and selfishness linger upon his soul. His want of family. His want of a happy life. His want of parents that are long dead. His need for the perfectly happy adoptive family. The boy begged and screamed for help in the space between waking and dreaming. He grovelled and pleaded that his precious mummy be saved from Jirrak'vu'nari."

"You lied to him," Raka rumbled. "It is _forbidden_ to lie to a Contractor."

"Who cares, _sha-ka_?" the younger demon gloated. "He agreed."

"Only those who do not wish to be vanquished," Raka'ku'santi replied. "To disgrace the Contract is to weaken the Bind. You are your own worst enemy. Shall I demonstrate the reason why the young feed the older? Do you wish your soul to feed the hound and give him power that you could never use properly?"

Snape licked his jowls in eager anticipation.

"You cannot vanquish me without killing the boy," the demon gloated from inside Harry.

Raka'ku'santi smiled, and it was not a pleasant sort of smile. "You assume that I care."

Harry's eyes filled with fear. "You wouldn't. The boy means something to the minger."

Raka'ku'santi burst into laughter. "You know nothing of beauty, _k'ahza._ " He extended a finger to trace Hermione's jawline. "She is beautiful through and through. The stronger the bond between us, the more glorious we all become. She is Raka'ku'vari, light to my darkness, and she will shine forever as a beacon of our quadrumvirate."

"Quadrumvirate? There are only three of you," Harry scoffed. "Do you include the dog in your power base? Does he share his fleas?"

"I would recommend you close your eyes, Healer," Raka'ku'santi rumbled. "Lest you see something you cannot unsee."

The healer seemed conflicted, but as he made the mistake of looking at Harry closely, the demon in him smiled darkly as he threw something out of the circle physically. Healer Roberts clutched his face as his eyes seemed to burn, black smoke trickled where he had squeezed his lids shut.

"Stay in the circle," Hermione said, reaching out her hands to reinforce the warding.

Healer Roberts was flailing about, staggering about with his hands to his eyes.

"Please stay still!" Hermione cried, pulling on her magic to maintain the wards and keep him inside.

Robert's hands reached out as he heard her, and the moment he made contact, the cloud of blackness moved to her and shot into her eyes.

Hermione hissed in pain, flinching, but she continued her spell, wrapping Roberts in energy binds and keeping him in the wards.

She turned to look at Harry, her blind gaze staring into him.

Harry's inner demon was cackling. "Let's see how effective you are when you can't even see!"

Hermione's hand reached out to find Snape's head under her reach, and she smiled. The hellfiend bumped her hand, tentacles wrapping securely around her fingers to keep her close.

Familiar.

Trusted.

"If you think my being blind is going to make me cry and grovel helplessly, you are mistaken," Hermione said. "I do not need sight to _see_ you."

Sanguini threw down a pellet that grew into a magical cage as Raka'ku'santi shed all pretence of being human. The elder demon burst through the clothes with his size and flames, and as the ash motes fell, Raka'ku'santi's muzzle wrinkled in a malevolent snarl. His wings unfolded, wing to wing smashing against the "smallness" of the room as his horns dragged against the ceiling and broke tiles free. His demonhood was erect against his belly— definitely not small and shrivelled as the younger demon had insulted. His tail whiplashed from side to side.

"I look forward to ripping you to shreds, _k'ahza,"_ Raka said with a showing of fangs.

"You can't kill me without killing him!" the younger demon cried.

Snape growled eagerly but held back.

"You can't banish me!"

Raka lowered his head to nuzzle Hermione's cheek. "Let us give our young friend a lesson in what it means to share power, my love."

The demon teased her mouth with his tongue, and she yielded to his ardour, the heat of his demonic lust washing over her. She moaned as Sanguini caught her in his arms, nuzzling her as he both held and ran his hands over her body. His fangs glinted before he struck even as her scream of pleasure was muffled by Raka's attentive, passionate kiss.

Their magic blended, and it travelled down to Snape, whose body trembled as it absorbed the heated thrill of combined magic. His body expanded, growing, as his features twisted and became larger. Magic dripped from his fangs as liquid fire, and his entire body seemed to be cast in flames.

Snape's lips pulled back from his teeth to expose the bright green infernal fire within his maw.

Hermione's voice, heavy with lust and satisfaction purred, "Snape, my love. _Do what you will_."

He leapt.

The demon fled Harry's body with all due haste, screaming as the hellfiend landed on Harry with a bloodthirsty snarl. His jaws snapped around the younger demon's half-manifested un-body as it tried to escape. His flames consumed the "younger" demon's essence as his jaws ripped into him, and his claws tore it asunder. The tentacles on his body seemed to grow larger and thicker, hissing mouths exposed on the ends to dig into the interloper and drag him closer for a more intimate mauling.

The inexperienced demon's cries were soon muffled by the sound of the hellfiend devouring its prize— in pieces.

When Hermione's legs wobbled, having channelled more magic than she had been expecting, Severus caught her in his arms, his pale face looking down at her in concern as he pulled her from Raka'ku'santi's and Sanguini's embrace. His face was marred with demonic ichor from having savaged Harry's demon, but his pale hand caressed her cheek with disquietude.

Her hands reached for him, and she ran her fingers over his face, smiling as she recognised him without her sight. "There you are, my love," she murmured happily.

His head dipped, capturing her mouth with a kiss, and the magic he had devoured moved between them all, sharing his conquest amongst them all. Her eyes cleared, and she stared into his eyes with pride and pleasure. His desire spiked, and Hermione pressed against him with renewed eagerness. "Severus," she whispered. "Make love to me."

Severus growled with interest, but a part of him hesitated. "Here? At St Mungo's? Over the desiccated ectoplasmic remains of a vanquished demon and in front of your once best mate and a blind healer?"

Hermione licked her lips. "Yes."

Severus' smile was wicked. "As my witch commands."

* * *

Hermione woke to hear Ginny's shrieking voice and Harry's protests mixing together in the sitting room.

"Nnngh," she muttered. " _Why_ did I allow them into our home?"

"You apparently adore suffering and making me suffer bloody Potter's excruciating presence," Severus muttered into her hair.

"Shall I eat them?" Raka'ku'santi inquired with a mighty yawn, unwrapping his wing from their tangle of bodies.

"No," Hermione, Severus, and Sanguini said together.

"Pity," Raka said with a shrug.

Hermione dove back under Raka's warmth and darkness-obliging wing with a disgruntled muttering.

"Mrrr," the demon purred. His tongue slithered mischievously into trouble, and Hermione groaned as he encouraged her early evening lust. He bared his neck for her, and she needed no further enticement as she fed her hungers one after the other, and Raka's smug demonic smile echoed in the loop of his spaded tail.

Hermione grunted softly as she pressed her face against Raka'ku'santi's chest. "You are like sin wrapped in molten chocolate."

Raka'ku'santi's rumble of laughter shook the bed. "It is one of my finer traits."

"Along with top-notch carpentry and gourmet cooking?" Hermione mumbled.

Raka'ku'santi smiled.

The shrieking cacophony of severe marital discord sounded off from the other side of the estate.

Hermione muttered, rolling onto her back and staring up at the ceiling. "Remind me to never get married."

Severus snorted. "A little late for _that_ , love."

"At least, I can say that my choices were well worth the wait," Hermione sighed.

"Hundreds of years for me, love," Sanguini said. "It was worth it, indeed."

Raka'ku'santi rumbled. "I have lost count of mortal time, and what is time to us now, my Vari? We exist as gods and demons have always existed, and our Bind ensures we will persist long after the unbelievers have all withered and turned to dust."

"How do you make the end of civilisation itself sound like it's merely time to sweep out the dust bunnies?"

Raka chuckled. "I have seen a great many rise and even more fall."

A loud crash from the other room caused Sanguini to sit up. "That's it. I'm mind-rolling them both into a blissfully happy marriage."

Hermione put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "It won't work, Mihail."

"It would make _me_ feel better, and it would save our home," Sanguini said.

"You also went through a phase wanting to Turn vegans into vampires just to watch them self-destruct," Hermione said.

"I didn't actually do it," Sanguini said, his lips curved into a distinct smirk. "But I really wanted to."

Hermione gave him a look.

"I will admit to being quite amused by the idea," Severus commented.

"Severus!" Hermione thwapped them both with a pillow. "You're _both_ horrible."

She finally extricated herself from the insidious warmth of their shared bed. "I should go and see to Ginny and Harry before they destroy our home with their incessant fighting and caterwauling."

She pulled on a robe. "I should probably get dressed before leaving the bedroom."

"I rather like the view," Sanguini said as she went to dress.

Sanguini ducked another well-aimed pillow to the face as Raka'ku'santi stood from the bed. "I suppose I should tend to the kitchen. Perhaps stuffing their faces with food will shut them up for a time."

"Doubtful," Severus said. "They will just argue with their mouths full."

"How barbaric," Sanguini said, having managed to dress himself up completely in a blink of the eye. "Speaking with your mouth full just gets blood everywhere."

Severus frowned. "I do not wish to contemplate an eternal Potter or any Weasley, Sanguini, and I will happily ask you Obliviate me of the entire idea."

Sanguini cracked his neck. "I'm sorry, I seem to have forgotten how."

Severus glared at him. "Right." He stood, frowning as he seemed to contemplate if getting dressed or walking straight out into the living room skyclad would finally shut the arguing, bickering Potters up.

"I think the billowing and the wool would be better in this case, lover," Sanguini said, scratching his chin idly. "Gods help us if either of them catches sight of your alabaster perfection and have them jump your bones in a lustful frenzy. I'd have to tear them apart, and I do hate the clean up afterwards."

Severus made no reply, but his ears were slightly pink as he dressed in preparation to walk out of the bedroom and not look like a dishevelled mess.

As Raka attempted to walk out the door, Sanguini cleared his throat.

The demon looked back. "Yes?"

"I think something less towering, winged, and ready to bring damnation to the world might go over better, my friend."

Raka'ku'santi looked down at his true form and sighed. "Pity."

* * *

When Hermione seemed to glide into the main room, her robes seemed to swirl about her as the scent of fresh shower-herbals followed her.

Harry and Ginny immediately looked utterly guilty as Hermione said absolutely nothing. She simply walked directly to the kettle and made a gesture. All the tea makings organised themselves and jumped into action, prepping the kettle and brewing the tea without her saying a word.

Harry looked like he was going to say something, but Hermione raised a finger and jerked her head, continuing to wait on her tea. By the time Hermione had sipped her doctored tea, her eyes flicked up to regard them both.

"Are you quite through destroying my parlour with your verbal battonage and magical temper flinging?"

Hermione's lips flattened into a line as she took in the sight of upturned planters, scattered parchments, and the pillows tossed from her favourite chesterfield onto the floor. "I prefer to wake up without the desire to commit amicicide, though perhaps I am being generous in saying friends, as a friend would respect me and my home enough not to destroy it."

Both Harry and Ginny had the good sense to be ashamed, their faces turned down to stare at the floor.

"Now, I realise the both of you have some laundry to air out," Hermione continued, "but you are both here to rid yourself of some rather extensive mind damage caused by multiple different reasons that have nothing to do with whatever marital strife has occurred, and I would have you remember that before you use it as an excuse to tear into each other. And if anyone has a reservation for tearing into you, Harry Potter, it would be Severus— for your despicable use of his home and property without regards to his will. Let us not even talk about how your actions ultimately affected me and my ability to seek out a mastery after graduation."

"And you, Ginny," Hermione said. "We provided you with comfortable guest quarters with a private bath and kitchenette so you would be able to rest and convalesce with less exposure to triggers that might upset you, and you purposely storm out here to pick a fight with Harry. While I am sorry you both have to be under the same roof, so to speak, I shouldn't have to ward you into locked quarters just to keep my roof from caving in."

As if to punctuate her statement, a piece of ceiling cracked and fell, hitting both Harry and Ginevra on the head and shattered into white and grey dust.

Hermione's lips flattened into a firm line, making her resemble a certain feline Animagus staring down an errant student lollygagging in the halls when they should have been in class.

There was a crushing sound as something large dragged against something else, and Snape arrived with a dented, mauled fender clasped between his jaws, tails wagging in victorious conquest. The remains of a bumper sticker that said "My other ride is a broom!" had multiple teeth marks over it as bent and twisted pieces of plastic and metal showed much love or abuse depending on the perspective.

Harry and Ginny managed to agree on looking horrified at the same time.

Hermione's expression turned warmer as she greeted the enthusiastic hound, and rubbed his ears. "Hello, love."

Snape's tails wagged as he showed off his conquest, and she placed a tender kiss on his forehead.

"Another fender for the fender barn?" Sanguini asked as he glided in behind Hermione, placing a kiss upon her temple.

"Mrrr," Hermione replied, her eyes glazing over. "Yes, he's very proud of this one."

Rrrrruff, Snape agreed, crunching the end enthusiastically.

"I must fly," Sanguini said as he touched Hermione's shoulder. "There is a representative from Spain that I must meet and convince them they are better served not trying to frame the murders of their locals on the vampires just to make their people feel better."

Hermione frowned. "They are trying to blame vampires for Muggle murders?"

Sanguini nodded. "There are still places and people in this world that would rather blame the supernatural or things they don't understand fully than face that humans are capable of horrible things. Though vampires are capable of the horrible things they accuse us of, we have evolved since the ages past when biting anything that moved was fully acceptable behaviour. Most of us anyway."

"Like we could trust a bunch of leeches," Harry interjected, scowling.

Sanguini turned, manoeuvring Hermione behind him in an automatic shielding gesture. "You may get away with such disrespect in your own circles, Mr Potter, but you show a surprising lack of respect for the ones who have not only freed you of a demon's possession but also those who have agreed, however reluctantly, to see your mind healed from the experience instead of just casting you into Azkaban for your crimes while serving as an Auror of all things."

Sanguini bared his teeth, his eyes going completely black save for the glowing amber irises. "You are a guest in my home, Mr Potter. You are under _my_ protection. Though, if you wish to lose that protection and be dragged off by the Ministry and torn to pieces for your financial gains due to the manipulation of property and ignored wills as well as imprisoned for having contracted a demon however stupidly in desperation, then by all means. Insult. Me. Insult my _wife_. Insult my _house_ and its full-time occupants, and I will gladly send you through the floo straight to hell."

"The floo would hardly be the easiest way to hell," Raka'ku'santi said as he pulled freshly baked Eccles cakes out of the oven. The scent of pastry and fruity goodness permeated the room quite quickly.

"I would prefer the Floo," Sanguini said. "The longer and more sick he becomes during the trip would satisfy me greatly."

"Well, if you change your mind, the traditional handbasket was always one of my favourite ways to carry idiots to the Underworld," Raka mused, setting the cakes out on a cooling rack.

"I could shove his still-warm remains into one and then put him through the Floo if that pleases your sense of tradition," Sanguini said.

"Hm," Raka'ku'santi mused. "Perhaps, it would." He eyed the dish of Dolly mixture on the counter and popped a sugar-coated jelly into his mouth and savoured it with an approving smile.

Ginevra seemed to put something together before her husband. "Hermione, you're married?"

"Very," Hermione replied.

"When did this happen?"

"Shortly after you were mind-rolled by a vampiress and before you came here," Hermione said.

"But—" Ginny trailed off. "You married Sanguini?"

Hermione sighed, taking the cup of tea Raka'ku'santi held out to her and drinking it before attempting to speak. "It wasn't like we didn't know each other, Ginny. I'd been his apprentice for over a decade."

"I think what Mrs Potter is trying to wrap her mind around is that our courtship was over a decade long, _draga mea_ ," Sanguini said with a knowing smile. "Most humans would have been either married and with a child or very much parted by then. She may have also, and forgive me if this may have given you the wrong idea, Mrs Potter, believed I was not courting you."

Ginevra frowned, disappointment on her face, and that seemed to provoke Harry yet again only at Ginny instead of vampires.

"You were flirting with a leech?"

Ginevra's magic seemed to surge inside her making her hair seem to catch on fire and writhe. "You fucking challenge me enjoying a view when you've been using your position as Auror to do shady and illegal property acquisition and then giving it to my wanker brother? I put in for a divorce the moment I realised you were doing all of it behind our backs. You knew it was wrong! You KNEW what you were doing was bad news, but you did it anyway. I want nothing to do with that. I want nothing like that to come back and paint my children scarlet! And your consorting with demons? After you spent months lamenting to me saying how you and Ron had accidentally cursed Hermione into a demon-binding relationship? I have every right to look elsewhere for stability and maybe some gods forsaken eye candy!"

"Y-you— you put in for a divorce?" Harry's sails seemed to lose his wrathful wind.

"Yes, but because your stupid ass has been judged incompetent to make sound decisions, I have to wait for your Wizengamot-appointed barrister to stop sitting on his arse and put the papers through just because he wants a better share of what is left of your vaults!" Ginny's body was rigid, and

"But, I don't want to get a divorce," Harry whispered, looking dejected.

"Well you should have fucking thought of that before you ignored Snape's will, screwed over your best friend for Ron, and then let a demon possess you to save your contemptible excuse of a mother who decided selling the soul of her best mate was perfectly acceptable behaviour! FUCK!" Ginny held her head, her nose wrinkling. "I—" She looked up at Hermione. "I remember now—" She teetered, and Hermione was at her side, catching her in a blur of movement that had Harry staggering backwards.

Ginny's eyelids fluttered, and Hermione placed her hand over her head, touching her fingertips to specific points on her face. "She's shaking off the effects of Lady Barbanegra's mind roll," she said grimly, looking toward Sanguini. "Her anger purged the last of the compulsions."

Sanguini was at her side in a moment, his long fingers replacing hers on Ginny's face. He nodded. "You are correct, child. Very observant. We should take her to her bed and let her sleep it off. Lady Barbanegra's compulsions were brute force rather than subtle, but they were emotionally charged and thus can have effects we do not always foresee. It seems that Ginevra's emotional force met or exceeded Lady Barbanegra's in this case."

"The female Weasley ire is notorious," Hermione said. "Her mother is far, far worse."

Sanguini's eyebrow twitched. "Then I shall be glad they are not vampires," he reasoned as he hoisted Ginny up like she was nothing. "Let us tuck her in and hopefully by the time she wakes, she will be fit enough to meet her children again."

Hermione followed him down the hall to where Ginny had been given a guest quarters.

Harry attempted to regain his train of thoughts and perhaps his tattered dignity, but he found himself being eyed by a suspicious hound, whose resemblance to an actual dog was only vague.

The hound's muzzle wrinkled, and dark lips pulled back from yellowed teeth.

"Whoa… easy… easy, boy," Harry attempted to placate, but Snape was not impressed.

A low growl escaped his throat as his tails lashed back and forth. Snape dropped his favoured fender with a clank, drool dripping from every fang as his body seemed to smoulder and crack, molten lava seeped from his broken skin, and the stench of brimstone filled the air.

Snape lunged, and Harry gave a cry as he leapt out the window and ran for his life, the growling snaps of the hellfiend becoming closer and closer. Harry dodged the yard ornaments, fountains, and hedges, but the hound was even closer. Harry leapt for the low branch of the huge oak in the garden and pulled himself up, quickly scrambling for even higher purchase in the tree.

Snape circled the tree, growling, every so often stopping to leap against the trunk and tear at the bark with his claws, teeth snapping as bits of lava and caustic saliva dripped from stained, jagged teeth.

Meanwhile, back at the house, Raka'ku'santi leaned against the window opening, a stem of einkorn dangling between his lips. His tongue fiddled with the stem causing some of the grains to rattle together. His lips curved back in a smile as his shadow depicted his true form— the spaded tail curved into an amused loop.

"Ah, mortals," he said with a chuckle. "Earth would be so dull without their shenanigans."

* * *

Hermione leaned up against Raka'ku'santi as she closed her eyes and listened to the night's sounds. She had thought that she would miss the sun, but she found that it was much like when she lost her vision. Sometimes the loss of one gave her more respect for what she could have— and what she truly had all along.

Raka's warmth was comforting, and she had come to realise he was much like the warm fires during the cold season only with him it was always that same sort of soul-deep comfort. She never restricted whether he could come or go, but he chose to stay with them the majority of his time.

Sometimes he would leave for some task much as Mihail did, but Hermione felt comforted in knowing they would always return. Severus was brewing in his potions lair, and she could smell the distinctive odour of potions brewing wafting from the ventilation system she had tinkered in just for his comfort and safety.

Severus had boggled at her specialisation in techno-wizardry, but he had quickly learned to love the benefits and how its existence contradicted the normally accepted "fact" that magic and Muggle science could not exist together. Things that challenged the norm often amused the wizard greatly as his entire life had been a balancing act of various norms juggled.

His being a Dark Wizard but Lily having contracted a demon for love, for example.

Raka nuzzled her neck, his tongue laving against her skin, and Hermione groaned softly, eyelids fluttering.

She cradled his head between her palms as he engaged her in a teasing and then deeper kiss. Hermione murmured and trailed kisses down his jawline, and his low possessive growl proceeding a more heated interest in their mutual pleasure. His black eyes took on an eerie crimson glow.

"Summoner," he rumbled, his voice heavy with lust as their magic slid together like oil over water. "I want you. Allow me to adore you."

She moaned as he slid his hand between the buttons of her shirt and released her breasts with a skilled surgical claw. His tongue slid against hers as her legs parted for his attention, a breathy groan moving from her mouth into his.

"You complain about _**Ron**_ and you're fucking the bloody help?!" Harry's outraged voice cried from the oak tree's upper limbs.

Like a bucket of cold water, Hermione found her ardour utterly destroyed, and Raka'ku'santi's ire rolled over her as he stood to his full height, flicking his fingers to conjure a soft blanket to conceal Hermione's nudity. He stepped closer to the tree, every step sending tremors of physical change through his body as his body grew smaller and slimmer and became more and more feminine.

"Allow me to help put some things in perspective for you, mortal," Raka'ku'santi said, his eyes glowing like twin red suns in a field of black. His voice became more and more seductive and sultry. "You and your best mate pilfered Severus Snape's personal property and stole one of his items meant, with instructions, to guide her to save his soul from eternal suffering. Had you not done this, she would never have been put in the place as a Summoner and forced to make a Bind with a demon powerful enough to protect her from all comers who would threaten her life."

Every word sent out pulses of daemonic energy, and Raka'ku'santi twisted "her" body in such a way that it was far beyond just appealing. The effect on Harry apparently horrified him, as he was very aroused and interested while being utterly mortified that it was happening.

"You, mortal, in your ceaseless effort to pressure your friend into an unwanted marriage with your idiotic best mate to keep your _special_ little family together," Raka'ku'santi said, "her" tongue slithering out to lick her ruby red lips as her voice dripped molten honey and venom. "You managed to drive her into the arms of her Bind's quadrumvirate— a power base that only grows with time with every act of touch, trust, and magic."

Raka'ku'santi smiled wickedly, watching as Harry's lust began to visibly overwhelm him. " _YOU_ , boy, tempered her wrath, pushed her into power, and then bathed her in sweet, sweet honey that no demon worth their salt could ever, ever ignore."

"To prevent a war of flames and destruction, to protect innocents, and even to protect idiots like _you_ , she surrendered to the Bind of her own free will, and we did so gladly do the same." Raka'ku'santi enveloped "her" finger with her lips, making a great show of licking down the digit with enthusiasm even as her other hand's fingers flicked and swirled around an erect and proud nipple.

Harry's eyes were practically on stalks and he frantically stroked himself as he rubbed up against the tree trunk, moaning with pent up lust that did not seem to abate.

"So as you writhe there, desperate and needy for release, do remember that it was _you_ who gave our Lady her dutiful, protective mates. And each of us," Raka purred as he rumbled the words, "would like nothing better than to tear you to pieces for making her cry."

Raka's eyes flashed. "And it was your selfish mother's manipulation and her choice to turn to the Dark Arts that won your loving father's attraction. She did summon the demon Jirrak'vu'nari to bless your father with both lust and fertility and even the elusive love— all for the price of Severus Snape's unsuspecting soul. So your petty little righteousnesses— they pale in comparison to the actual truth."

"Your best mate was a manwhore who fathered dozens of illegitimate children without care," Raka'ku'santi said, his fingers running down his body and leaving nothing to the imagination. "Your idealistic parents were a sham. Your grandfatherly idol of a wizard was a shameless manipulator who wished to bend the world and shape it into his ideal image to assuage his guilt for having killed his own younger sister."

"This is the truth of things, _sha'ka,_ " Raka'ku'santi rumbled. "And a demon always knows their truths to better know when someone is lying." Raka licked his teeth. "We know when you are lying to us or yourself. We know your hidden secrets. Closet desires. Needs. Wants. More."

Raka's smile made "her" lips seem wet and glossy. "We know what trips every trigger. Every emotion. Every excuse you tell yourself so you can sleep at night." His lips pressed into a sultry pout, his tongue flicking teasingly in and out from between his lips.

Harry let out a strangled moan as he touched himself, desperate for release.

"So, because my mate seems to have some lingering care for whether you live or die, I will not slaughter you here for your stupidity and mortal delusions," Raka'ku'santi said. "But I will leave you with a—hard— reminder to watch what you say when your betters are listening, but since I am not a complete bastard, or any bastard really as I did have a mummy and daddy as it were, I will leave you with a way out."

Raka'ku'santi licked his fingers sensually. "Feel true remorse for what you have done and gain some humility equal to or surpassing your guilt, and you will be free to—" Raka smiled. " _Get off_ the hook so to speak. Until then. I hope you like the colour blue, _sha'ka_."

" _ **HARRY!**_ Are you getting off staring at the _**BUTLER?!"**_ Ginny's voice screeched from the other side of the garden. "After you were all up in my face about admiring the views? You bloody _**HYPOCRITE!"**_

Raka'ku'santi turned, his form now completely innocuous and dressed as a butler. "Begging your pardon, ma'am. I seem to have stepped in a rather sticky situation."

Harry crashed to the ground from the tree, landing with an oof, his nose blowing out clouds of bat bogies that shot out of his nose and flew right up his ass. He clutched at his balls in agony, but it was clear that his painfully erect cock was not slackening for fear or embarrassment.

Raka'ku'santi saw that Severus had Hermione enveloped in a comforting embrace, his curtains of black wool surrounding the witch as if to devour her whole. Snape's pale face was hardened as he glared fiercely at Potter.

Then, very deliberately, Snape pressed a tender kiss on Hermione's mouth, and Hermione's pleased murmur of true enjoyment caused Harry's head to jerk up.

But then, almost instantly, he groaned, grasping his balls with pain.

"I think Hermione would enjoy some distraction, don't you, Raka?" Severus rumbled as he caressed her cheek with his thumb. "Perhaps we can both keep her mind suitably— occupied."

Hermione squealed as Severus scooped her up in his arms and carried her back into the house.

"Of course, Sir," Raka answered politely, a devilish grin spreading across his face as he followed Severus in.

Ginny stormed away from her husband as Harry continued to suffer under the bat bogies and an epic case of blue balls—well into the night and beyond.

* * *

"So, you're really married, huh?" Ginny asked, even knowing the answer.

The pair of them sipped their tea together in the garden which was thankfully free of treed Harrys.

Snape, however, was dutifully burying a new (to him) fender in the garden by the barn much to Ginny's horror.

Hermione nodded. "You're not angry with me, are you?"

"Angry? Hardly," Ginny said. "I might ask Sanguini or your butler if they have any brothers though," she added. "My divorce has to go through first, though."

Hermione took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm sorry about that."

"It's not _your_ fault my husband is a royal wanker," Ginny said sharply. "Or my idiot brother for that matter. Two of them, if you count Percy."

Hermione giggled, and then Ginny did too.

"I'm kind of jealous," Ginny confessed. "You make settling into life seem so simple. Even one as different as the one you have now."

"Well, I didn't exactly go into this saying "Hey, after I graduate, I plan to have a hellish time getting an apprenticeship, advocate for three separate species to obtain equal rights, get indoctrinated into vampire society, turned into a demon magnet, and then bound to a little of each."

Ginny laughed. "Right? I mean even you couldn't have planned for all that!"

Hermione threw a leaf at her. "Shush you."

Ginny grinned. "You deserve some happiness, Hermione, and you showed everyone that when Hermione Granger goes to find happiness, she doesn't ever do it small."

Hermione smiled at her. "Do you think you'll give Harry a chance to—"

"Become less of a wanker?" Ginny asked.

Hermione snorted. "He's always been— very quick to judge and hard to let go of his opinions, even when they're wrong. I wonder why he's so adamant about calling vampires "leeches". It's a very derogatory term, and I thought he left all of that behind with school and the war."

Ginny made a face. "Ron once came home all knackered after the war. He was all depressed, remember?"

"Because of Fred, right?" Hermione asked.

Ginny nodded. "That was at least part of it, I'm sure. Well, he kept going out drinking, and he was getting pretty sick. Pale. Tired. Depressed. Mum tried to feed it out of him, but he kept going out each night."

Ginny scratched her head. "Harry found him one night— this was before they were ready to become Aurors together. Before the trials that exonerated Snape. Harry found him hanging out in a vampire's den just letting them drain him. Maybe he had his reasons, my brother that is, but Harry— he blamed the vampires for turning my brother into a junkie. The bite, they say, can be truly orgasmic, like sex. He—"

Ginny frowned. "I think that was around the time Harry took Snape's property, sold off his stuff, and built that house for Ron. Now that I think about it, it makes sense— not that it was right of him, but I think he was trying to keep Ron out of trouble."

"I don't think giving Ron a residence cured his roaming cock, Ginny."

Ginny sighed. "I know, but I think that is why he's so adamant against vampires," she said. "Vampires, in his mind, all but destroyed his best mate."

"He'd rather blame vampires than admit his best mate just couldn't keep it in his pants," Hermione mused.

"I think it runs much deeper than that, Hermione," Ginny said. "He's always wanted his family back. Mum and Dad— they tried to make him feel like family. Harry has always turned a blind eye to Ron's faults— to many of our faults, really. He doesn't want to lose that sense of family."

Ginny stared into her teacup. "Honestly, I think he needs to be apart from us. Weasleys, that is. Apart from the whole Boy-Who-Lived and the Man-Who-Conquered nonsense— apart from that horrible family he came from. He needs to find who Harry Potter is. Maybe he needs to go travelling the world with Luna for a bit. Her and Rolf. They might be able to help put things in perspective for him. Provided he can, erm, well—"

Ginny fidgeted. "Put on his pants."

"Might have to wear robes full time for a while," Hermione suggested.

Ginny lay her head back against the side of the fountain. "I think we, my family that is, sort of supported his skewed view of what family should be and that he'd always have us. It's not that we'd not be there for him, but he sort of simply adopted our family's ways and didn't really have much time to develop his own ideas. By the time the war was over, he was so desperate for stability, we married right away and I—"

"I didn't exactly help with that," Ginny confessed. "I wanted to get married too. We both wanted kids, a family, and something to hold onto, and we already knew each other. People expected us to become this fairytale married couple. We were safe bets."

Hermione sighed heavily. "And the children?"

"I love them dearly," Ginny said immediately, "but I think they already know that mum and dad aren't at all like nana and grandpa. They have a bit of a reputation to go up against, being both Potters and their mum a Weasley."

Hermione tilted her head. "How are they doing in school?"

"James is a bit serious, and I'm not even sure where he gets it from," Ginny said. "Albus just wants to learn everything he can, but Lily— she's had a few owls sent home about her behaviour. Kind of like how Fred and George did back in the day. She shapes up for a week or so and then she's right back at it, getting detention for pulling pranks and generally causing trouble.

"James and Albus don't want to have anything to do with her, and that only makes it worse," Ginny said with a shake of her head.

"Do you think the discord between your kids may have pushed Harry into trying to make the other parts of his life perfect?"

Ginny frowned. "You know— maybe? I really haven't ever thought of it like that."

"Despite it all," Ginny said, "I just want him to be happy. Even if that isn't with me. I want him to be happy with himself, and I don't want him to think that he's let anyone down if he realises who he truly is may not be the person he thought he was."

Hermione dipped her fingers in the water in the fountain, and a few of the fountain fish nibbled at them hoping for food. Hermione pulled out a pinch of pellets from the nearby storage urn and scattered them in, smiling as the fish hungrily vacuumed up their dinner.

"I didn't know you liked fish," Ginny said.

"Me either," Hermione said with a chuckle. "Back when my garden kept being destroyed, Raka'ku'santi and Snape put in a fountain without fish. Mihail added the fish because he said the lack of colour and all the marble made it look like a mausoleum. Ironically, I couldn't see at all then, so I didn't even notice. I found I liked it. It was the first thing all three of them worked on together."

Ginny watched as Snape dropped a hubcap into a hole he had dug and buried it with a few focused paw-shovels of dirt.

"He doesn't strike me as much of a decorating sort, Hermione."

"He's more than he appears," Hermione said, amused.

"If you say so—" Ginny said. "Doesn't Professor Snape find it a little odd that you named your dog after him?"

Hermione's face wrinkled. "He's come to accept his doggy alter-ego, I think."

Ginny made a face. "I'm not sure I'd be so accepting if you bought yourself another dog and named her Ginny."

Hermione shrugged. "I named the dog before Severus came to live with us, Ginny. It would be like— if I named a dog Ginny if you'd died during the war, to have some reminder of you and having you close to me and then have you walk back into my life not quite as dead as I thought."

Ginny was sombre. "True— I guess the way you made it, it was a way to remember him positively."

Hermione nodded. "It was. It is, only now that I get to see him alive and well every day, and that pleases me too."

Ginny watched the owls fly in and out of Severus' business side of the house, busily delivering various products to his customers and returning to the house to await their new deliveries. "How does he get owls to carry such big orders?"

Hermione smiled. "He developed a special shrinking and preservation charm so the owls aren't weighed down at all. The usual lightening charms tended to expire out of the range of the caster. His are specialised to expire when the customer removes them from the owl."

"The man is _brilliant_. Scary, but brilliant."

Hermione raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Ginny stared thoughtfully into the fountain. "Do you think I should wait to divorce Harry?"

Hermione closed her eyes, trying to still her more instinctive desire to go wring his neck and maybe tap into an artery. Perhaps both.

"That's something only you can answer, Ginny," Hermione said softly. "All I can say is you have to both want it to work for it to get better. If I've learned anything in my current situation, communication is the key. You're never going to agree on everything all the time. That's an expectation just waiting to crash and burn. Be honest with yourself and to each other, and if the love is really there, you will make things work together. You have to be patient, too."

"It took you years to get to this point," Hermione continued, "so you have to give time to get better. Just as it's going to take me quite some time to get over wanting to throw furniture at him."

Ginny busted into laughter. "Not the chesterfield!"

Hermione scoffed. "Never. I value my chesterfield far too much to launch it at Harry in a fit of pique."

"Harry may realise in time that all the answers do not come from having a perfect family," Hermione said. "There is no such thing. We just have to be blind at the right times just as much as we are open and communicative to lessen the inevitable misunderstandings. I will admit that I do not always feel comfortable with the fact that Mihail will often have to exercise both his skill in seduction and carnal pleasure with some of the people he must meet with, but he does not ever lie to me about such things. I am honest with him about my discomfort, and I believe him when he says they do not mean anything to him. I do not sense any hint of treachery in his ways, and I would never go behind his back in spite or need for petty revenge. And as time goes on, the bond between us has grown ever stronger for it."

Ginny nodded. "Don't you worry that someday he might lose control and accidentally— you know—kill you?"

"Trust me, as old as Mihail is," Hermione said, "The only thing that could make him lose control would be if someone threatened me. It is a deep-seated instinct in him to protect his territory and his mate. And I don't think that is something that's limited to him." Hermione seemed thoughtful.

There was suddenly a loud crash from inside the house and Snape came shooting out across the garden and leapt over the garden wall, a lengthy string of sausages dangling from his jaws, a gleeful doggy grin plastered across his furry face.

"By the _**blood**_ of _**Asmodeus**_!" Raka'ku'santi yelled from the house. "I will cover your canine hide in glitter and make you _**sparkle**_ for this!"

The sound of whines mixed with the frantic chewing of stolen sausages came from the other side of the garden wall.

Hermione and Ginevra burst into laughter together, the seriousness of their conversation forgotten for the love of a hungry hound's sausage-loving antics.

* * *

**End of Chapter 4**

* * *

**A/N** : Love to the Dragon and the Rose for staying up to beta the end of this chapter before crashing into bed, Tea for being a cheerleading stalker, and Dutchgirl01 for somehow finding the time to even read _any_ thing.

Work is kicking my feathered rump, and writing is hard enough when there is the time!

The floss line is a hat tip to the old Forever Knight TV series which remains an old favourite of mine.


	5. Consequences of the Soul

**Beta Love:** Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01, Flyby Commander Shepherd, DeepShadows2

* * *

**Gift From Hell**

Chapter 5

_Love is like a fire. But whether it is going to warm your hearth_

_or burn down your house, you can never tell._

**Joan Crawford**

* * *

Sanguini stepped out of the shower as Severus was brushing his teeth. "Could you hand me that towel over there, please?"

Severus brushed his teeth with one hand as he grabbed the nearby towel and held it out to Sanguini.

Mihail pulled the towel, but Severus' hand remained firmly attached to it. He tugged, and Severus pulled back on it all the while still brushing his teeth.

Sanguini pulled again.

Severus growled, brushing his teeth more furiously.

Sanguini's eyebrows knit together. "Severus, you do realise you are playing tug-o-war with me, right?"

Severus paused in his brushing. "Shut it," he growled, but his hand remained firmly attached to the towel.

Sanguini released the towel and dripped as he walked over to the towel rack and pulled off one for himself. "Never mind, I'll get my own."

* * *

Severus found himself out in the main garden, half-buried in autumn leaves. Hermione was laying back in the pile, radiating utter contentment.

"Hermione?" he asked, reaching for her automatically and hesitating in the worry he would ruin her mood.

"Severus," she replied with a sigh, rolling into him, her arms wrapping around his woollen robes as she pressed her face into his button line.

He captured her against him, his eyes closing with the pleasure of her nearness, the intoxicating feeling of her happiness to simply touch and share his nearness still filling him with a heady rush of both desire and contentment.

There had been a time when he'd dreamed of such things, and he'd also thought it might have been Lily. Such dreams, however, had been nothing but smoke. If she had cared about him, it hadn't been enough to keep her from attaining her other goals.

Hermione had no such aspirations, though. Her compassion was for those she cared about, and her concerns were their well-being. Her quest for well-being and equality had bridged the gap between various magical species that had been lacking a champion for hundreds of years, but it hadn't made her arrogant.

If anything, the witch had become more grounded and realistic to the state of the world— the world that had tried very hard to stamp her down throughout her life.

If she was jaded, Severus couldn't tell. It seemed like she was more appreciative for the happiness she was given— more apt to respect the small things she did have rather than that she didn't.

And who was he to question someone as genuinely giving as Hermione, who wished to spend her time with him when his very soul had already made up its mind?

He actually _had_ a soul because of her.

And Sanguini had eased him into accepting that it was actually okay to have feelings (at all) as well as understanding that communication was the path to a harmonious life. Raka'ku'santi had helped him accept that there could be no lies between them due to the nature of their Bind, but for once—

It was okay to be truthful.

He just had to stop lying to himself.

Almost his entire life had been a _lie_.

He'd just had to die to finally realise that—

"Sickle for your thoughts?" Hermione asked. She was snuffling his scent near his neck, making content sounds.

"I may have come to realise that I had to die to realise the majority of my life was a lie," he said, finding it strange that he was so calm about it. "And that you may actually love me."

Hermione pushed up to look him in the eyes. "My normal reaction would be to ask if you doubted me, but I realise that is kind of par to the course for you, isn't it? Not out of meanness but—"

"Dumbledore had me believing so many things, and one was that my only path to atonement was to be there for Lily's son and keep him safe. The boy who looked the very spitting image of his swine of a father, whose sole good deed was to save me from dying at Lupin's jaws. Not that it changed anything afterwards. It went right back to being the same gang-like relationship."

Severus looked skyward, sighing. "Not that I didn't try to get back at them. It never mattered. I was always the bad one. The Dark wizard in the making. The blood-covered suspect. Only now—"

He let out his breath slowly. "I feel the truth in your words when you say that you love me. In my bones. My soul. My inner hellfiend. Though I have done so little to deserve it."

"You lived a lifetime to deserve it, Severus," Hermione said.

"Dumbledore may have led me to the tainted river where I drank to believe myself unforgivable, but I chose to drink it. I _believed_ him."

"He was a master manipulator, Severus," Hermione said. "I can look back and see it, but I believed him too. Many of us did, always believing that he had our best interests at heart, despite all evidence to the contrary."

"I truly believed she was the greatest light in my world," Severus said. "Like her son, I thought her incapable of darkness."

"To be fair to you, Severus, the first thought would rarely be that Lily was using Demonology to secure herself a wealthy husband," she said. "Even knowing what I do now about demons and Binds, it would still not be my first guess."

Severus breathed in sharply and let out a sigh. "I've been trying to meditate more— get in touch with my soul."

"I think that's an admirable goal," Hermione said.

"It makes me break out in deeply seated hellfiend traits."

"Well, as long as you don't go after Raka'ku'santi's sausages again, you should be safe," Hermione speculated.

"I have an inexplicable drive to hunt down and drag back fenders and bury them in the yard."

"The village needs a few older cars replaced," Hermione said. "You probably gave them a good reason to do so."

"I fought Sanguini over a towel in the bathroom."

"There wasn't another towel?"

"It was a tug-of-war."

Hermione clucked her tongue. "I'm really sorry I missed that."

Severus frowned and looked her in the face. "How are you so completely unflappable?"

"I wasn't always, Severus," Hermione replied wryly. "I apprenticed for over ten years with Mihail, and believe me, technomagery requires both absolute steadiness of mind and emotion. Lest you make something explode quite messily when you flip the switch."

"A decade under the same master—" Severus mused. "I cannot even imagine that. My apprenticeship was a mere two years. I already knew more than him. He took credit for the things he caught me making. It was in the contract."

Hermione frowned. "I enjoyed my time as an apprentice. Mihail was very patient and fair. He wouldn't let me start anything until I was at least two teas in with breakfast in my stomach. It was probably to keep me from blowing up his laboratory, but I certainly appreciated it."

"However did he manage to curb that insatiable curiosity and frantic hand waving of yours?"

Hermione pointed a finger at him. "I didn't hand-wave."

"But you _did_ possess an insatiable curiosity."

Hermione harrumphed. "It has served me well enough."

Severus chuckled, and Hermione relaxed, rolling her forehead against his frock coat. He ran his fingers through her hair. "You are something undoubtedly special in this world. Do you know that?"

"I am just a woman with exceedingly strange luck."

Severus shook his head, brushing her cheek with his fingers. "We can lie to ourselves but not to each other. Listen. You are incredibly special. Your talents have far exceeded your peers and left them in the dust. You didn't have to give Potter another chance."

"I don't think Harry has ever known who he truly is," Hermione said. "He's only known what his aunt and uncle believed him to be, what others believed him to be, what the public wanted him to be. He's never really had the opportunity to know himself while trying to grow up with a Dark Lord haunting him and Dumbledore giving him just enough information to make him feel special but never enough to actually inform him of anything truly significant."

Hermione moved her head, her neck bones cracking slightly as they went back into proper alignment. "He deserves to at least find out who he truly is," Hermione said. "I think Luna and Rolf can definitely help him with that— that and being out in a locale as far away from so-called civilisation as one can possibly be. If he comes back still an unrepentant arse, well—"

Hermione lay her head against his chest. "I will smear him all over with back bacon and have Snape do what he will with him."

Severus sputtered.

"You are going to give me permission to do what I will with the lookalike son of the bane of my life?"

Hermione smiled serenely. "I can forgive, but I'm not about to let Harry walk over any of us once an honest attempt to help him has been made. He has already stepped on Mihail's last remaining nerves with his constant leech accusations, managed to annoy Raka'ku'santi, and let's just say your soul isn't especially happy with him either."

Severus pulled her closer to him. "You are compassionate yet surprisingly realistic. There was a time when I did not believe that such things could even exist, let alone in one person."

He looked into her face as his fingers curled against her chin and he tugged her closer, sealing his mouth over hers in a kiss. Hermione murmured into his mouth as her fingers wove into his black hair. He relieved her of her robes with a silent spell as his hands captured hers and pinned her in the leaves.

She looked up at him heatedly, her desire written clearly on her face, and he kissed her neck as he worked his way down to her breasts, a low growl escaping his throat as she arched her back as his warm mouth covered her exposed nipple. His mouth and tongue caused her to writhe and mewl, and his body responded to her sounds with a surge of excitement. He transferred to the other breast, and she practically flew off the ground.

Location far from his mind, the only thing he could focus on was his lovely mate's very inviting body and her sweetly enticing sounds of desire.

Her slender legs wrapped around his body and pulled him closer in an undeniable invitation and need, and Severus was more than willing to oblige. He panted against her cheek as he fastened his mouth against the side of her neck, his hips flexing to plunge inside her—

The moment he was inside her, it was like finding home, and he felt a rush of ecstasy as both physical and magical pleasure rushed through every cell of his body. With each plunge, his body seemed to vibrate, and his soul seemed to celebrate the joining by manifesting his more hellfiend characteristics.

But neither Severus nor Hermione seemed to notice as they did their avid best to merge together as one soul and body.

Hermione clutched his back, clinging to him like he was the only land in a stormy sea, her magic flaring from her body as it frolicked with his, the wisps of their energy swirling around each other like playful otters. Severus' skin seemed to darken, and with each jolt of pleasure, ridges of hornlike spikes moved down his back following the curve of his spine and the serpentine curl of his twin tails formed and lashed back and forth before slithering around her body and drawing her into a tighter embrace.

As Hermione gave a cry of completion, he bared his elongating teeth, his tongue laving against her neck as he rolled onto his back and pulled her with him, his body locked in the grip of their shuddering passion.

"I love you," Hermione whispered against his neck, her voice heavy with satisfaction.

Severus realised there were no words for the profound feeling of rightness he had in the throes of intimacy he'd never believed himself deserving of. But as his soul and mind finally seemed to agree at the same time— that he actually deserved to be happy and loved and that there were those that actually did love him— the hell fiend soul and the man finally spoke the same language.

This was the life he wanted.

This was the life he deserved.

He was free, but it had been his choice to Bind himself to this new, wondrous life—

A life he would never have had if his once best friend hadn't done horrible things to ensure her own happiness.

His lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarling smile. He would have to thank her.

* * *

Hermione sipped her tea as she watched Snape bury a bright red fender in the back garden. The fender was larger than the others, so a lot of it was sticking out of the ground. White floral decals peppered the abused fender— lilies.

Snape grasped the fender and humped it, obviously taking great pleasure in the thorough act—

Hermione made a face. "Should I be jealous of a fender?" she asked.

Sanguini kissed her neck and wrapped his arms around her. "That, my love, is an act of canine dominance. He's not trying to give the fender puppies."

Hermione flushed as Sanguini gave Hermione a little distraction of his own.

Snape, however, continued to dominate the lily-covered fender before he buried the pieces in separate holes.

* * *

Severus stood in the infernal plane, watching as imps flew back and forth on errands. The temperature didn't bother him, his char-like skin thinking it was but a cool breeze in hell. While not all of the Underworld was lava and doom, this was the common hellscape most mortals believed was the ultimate punishment, and so it was the place they ended up.

This one, however, was the preferred lair of Jirrak'vu'nari, the keeper of Lily's soul.

Severus waited, fully aware that this was not his territory, and his reason for being there was not to challenge the elder demon's domain or steal any of his stuff.

Jirrak was a demon who delighted in soulful torment— the kind of demon that took special pleasure in granting a mortal exactly what they asked for for a price, and then took even more pleasure in collecting. Most mortals could only see as far as a few decades of mortal life and would rather guarantee themselves a happier (relatively short) life at the cost of something they couldn't even weigh for themselves: the soul.

It was only after having died and been made into a hell fiend that Severus had understood just how much the soul was worth— and why those such as Raka'ku'santi would do much to Bind with one such as Hermione. To have one's soul protected from the bartering "game" was priceless and worth fighting for. It also explained why the Ministry had been so eager to sanction Hermione's choice and bind to prevent war on Earth just to have the opportunity to "impress" Hermione's choice.

Somehow, though, Severus' soul had found its way to Hermione's gentle keeping, and he had to admit his soul had better judgement than his mind had back in the day. That she was able to give him time to figure out his own conflicting emotions, face that he did rather like Sanguini more than he'd realised, and did not suffer her judgment for doing so—

It was all something so new and beautiful.

He had to admit the hellfiend had done well for himself— paving the way for his human side to come to grips with the changes inside himself.

"The soul that got away," Jirrak'vu'nari rumbled as he arrived in a cloud of sulfurous smoke.

Severus' nose wrinkled, but he knew the demon was being gracious by not answering the intrusion with a display of violence.

"Jirrak'vu'nari," he said politely, bowing his head.

The elder demon hrmmed, seemingly appraising him. "Few manage to evolve while cursed with a demon's life. You not only found someone willing to Bind to you, but you did it trapped in the form of a fiend. I would be angry at such an escape had it not given me such a wonderfully tortureable soul with your loss."

Severus remained silent, having been forewarned by Raka'ku'santi to not respond to Jirrak'vu'nari as he would a human being. Jirrak, unlike Raka'ku'santi, was a demon attempting to build a domain for himself through the demonic realms, and it required a certain amount of respect for the demon's "home" as to not unintentionally slight him and provoke a war.

Demons with domains were touchy enough, but demons building their powerbase tended to be extra sensitive to slights and quick to demonstrate that they were powerful enough to defend a domain of their own. Demons with Binds were something rare and respected, but it was no reason to go pissing on those who preferred the more "traditional" way of life.

"What is it that you wish here?" Jirrak rumbled, itching one wing with his talons. His crimson skin was brushed all over with dark aubergine patches that reminded Severus of the skin of a pluot. The demon was healthy and powerful in his own right— powerful enough that he was not covered in scars of scuffles and power battles like the lesser of his kind.

"I wish to see the soul of the one who cursed me and gifted me with such a glorious life. I would enjoy seeing her … enjoying the fruits of her most deserved life."

Jirrak'vu'nari laughed, a bellowing sound that shook a few imps off the nearby outcrops and set them to flight.

"You are looking in the wrong place, _fei'ata_ ," the demon said. "I have sent her soul into a living body to season it— properly. Her torment is like a fine, well-aged liqueur. I could sprinkle it upon my skin and lick myself into utter bliss."

Severus tilted his head. _Fei'ata_ was a word that meant "Bound one" and it acknowledged Severus' soul as being off-limits. "You sent her back into the world of the living?"

Jirrak'vu'nari smiled evilly. "A mortal lifetime finished without the benefit of her magic. Without her glorious, head-turning looks. To be _almost_ seen. _Almost_ noticed. I look forward to the sufferer's soul. They drip a kind of heady decadence that no amount of happiness could ever bring."

Severus licked his teeth. "I want to see her. Suffering."

Jirrak narrowed his eyes and seemed to evaluate Severus. "No, I do not see you as the type to wish to rescue some old infatuation after they sell you out. I would ask, however, that you not instill any hope into her suffering. Hope makes the soul so light and airy. Like the mortal's plain sponge cake when all you want is a rich, delicious cheesecake or a molten chocolate cake."

Severus dipped his head. "Any hope she may think she has will not last long, Jirrak'vu'nari," he promised.

"Dashed hopes, however—" Jirrak mused. "I _do_ approve of that." He jerked his head. "Fine. You may visit her. You will find her sweeping floors at the Leaky Cauldron in London." He chuckled lowly. "Do be sure to order the pumpkin cheesecake. It is positively to _die_ for."

With that the elder demon waved him off. "Give my regards to Raka'ku'santi, _fei'ata._ Tell him he won his bet, and I will pay as promised. I look forward to our next bet, which I intend to win."

Jirrak'vu'nari clapped his wings, and Severus found himself cast out of Jirrak's domain and standing again in his home garden.

A postal worker had just delivered the mail to the box and was walking away from the garden wall.

" _ **Rrrrrr,"**_ Severus rumbled as his form changed instantly into that of the fiend's, and he promptly tore off after the hapless mail carrier, barking like mad.

* * *

"Good to see you back, friends," Tom greeted as he sat the incoming party down at a large table. "Seems like forever since I've seen you 'round."

He gave them all a menu, filled their water glasses, and got their drink orders.

Tom had gained some strands of iron-grey in his hair, but he was still the outgoing, energetic man that everyone remembered. Many suspected that he was a vampire due to how very little he had changed, and that had Sanguini rather amused at the notion of a vampire tavernkeep surrounded in various states of energetic and often drunken specimens of humanity— walking blood donors, all. The elder vampires could do it, he reasoned, but he wouldn't trust a newly Turned to run such a business in any reality.

Raka'ku'santi eyed the menu with a critical eye, perhaps wondering what manner of evil masquerading as food he was about to order and ingest.

Hermione put a hand on his. "It's okay to eat out once in a while, love. As much as I truly adore your cooking."

Raka'ku'santi rumbled, leaning in to nuzzle her cheek. "Making food is _not_ a chore, _mi'sala_ ," he said. "I do enjoy it."

"Jirrak said to tell you he acknowledges your bet as won, and he will pay up as promised," Severus said, eyeing over the menu.

Raka smiled. "Oh? He must be feeling quite magnanimous, indeed."

"What was the bet?" Sanguini asked. curious.

The demon's lips curved into a smug smile. "That, one day, his habit of tampering with souls would result in the exact opposite of what he had intended. He prefers, you see, a suffering soul. It may not be the most powerful as such for lifetime spellwork, but it has a uniquely appealing flavour that he cannot seem to stay away from. He is but a sucker for the suffering soul."

"And what won the bet for you?" Severus asked as he highlighted what he wanted with a finger and set his menu down. The menu neatly folded itself into a parchment plane and zoomed back to the counter.

"You," Raka'ku'santi replied. "He expected you to suffer the most for being turned into a hell-fiend against your will and cast out into the farthest reaches of demon society, but instead you clawed your way to Hermione's side, dedicated yourself to her well-being, and she then chose you for the highly coveted Bind. The unholy grail of protected power and the ability to come and go between worlds without the call of a Summoner."

Raka smiled. "You evolved. You escaped his grasp. And he is hardly an inexperienced demon— you surprised him."

Severus frowned. "How long was this bet going on?"

"A few thousand years," Raka'ku'santi said.

"You make future predictions on a scale that would make those like Trelawney shrivel up and die in the waiting," Severus said thoughtfully.

"We all have our small entertainments," Raka said.

"I'm trying to wrap my mind around a thousand some years of 'small entertainment'," Hermione said thoughtfully.

Tom arrived with a tray of food. "Bacon butty and pea soup for you sir," he said, placing the sandwich and soup in front of Severus.

"Croque Monsieur for you, sir," he said, placing the grilled sandwich in front of Raka.

"And the black pudding and bridies for the lady and sir," Tom said.

"Thank you, Tom," Hermione said with a smile.

"A pleasure, love," Tom said with a disarming grin. "Always good to see familiar faces. If you need anything, just wave me or the new lass down. Her name's Willow."

As Tom trundled off to tend other tables, Severus said, "I'd always thought he was being so fake and cheerful, but I realised now that he's honestly that happy to see everyone."

Hermione savoured her pudding with a smile. "It might be certain significant changes in my life," she mused, "but black pudding tastes _much_ better to me now."

Sanguini enjoyed a mouthful and chuckled. "Perhaps your tastes have matured."

Hermione gave him a look, but she couldn't hide the smile. "I am sure that is the reason," she said, sarcasm dripping from her words like honey.

Sanguini placated her with a quick kiss, and Hermione flushed pink, her now normally pale face taking on a rosy colour.

They chatted over the meal with lightened spirits while enjoying the avid speculation and gossip surrounding their showing up in public together. Sanguini, old as he was, could hide his power as one would change outfits, and many who did not know him personally did not immediately make the connection to who (or rather what) he was.

The shared Bond between their quadrumvirate had unwittingly given them all the ability to obfuscate their more supernatural natures, and none of them was complaining about that.

When they ordered the seasonal special of pumpkin cheesecake with a quick thanks to Jirrak'vu'nari's recommendation, they all decided that demons did know some of the greatest pleasures in life. Their scruples may be questionable by human standards, but they did know a good dessert. Raka seemed to be memorising the taste to best replicate it at home, and Severus was trying not to dive in face first and lick the plate clean.

The whipped cream on his nose may or may not have indicated success in that endeavour.

"Sev?" a platter of drinks went crashing to the floor. "Sev! You _**have**_ to help me!"

Severus' head snapped around like a gun turret. "Unhand me, Miss— whoever you are," he growled. He took the woman by the wrist and crushed it, pulling her hand off himself. He dropped the wrist with disgust as if it burned, his lips pulling back from his teeth in an almost inhuman snarl.

"Sev, it's me! Lily!"

"I don't know who you are, but Lily is _dead_."

"Sev, it's me! It's _**really**_ me!"

"Have you looked in a mirror?" Severus asked flatly. "You are _not_ Lily Evans."

"We grew up together! In Cokeworth! My sister is Petunia! I was sorted at Hogwarts into Gryffindor and you were in Slytherin!"

Severus tilted his head, the bones in his neck cracking. "That is something that anyone who paid half attention in the dramas of Hogwarts would have known, and the rest could have dug to find such information especially after her son went and aired all my dirty laundry to the world while defeating a Dark Lord."

Severus' eyes seemed to darken. "Lily was bright and beautiful— a force of nature whose magic was just as strong as she was. She was consumed with her appearance so that not even a speck of dirt was lodged under her nails."

Snape rose from his seat to his full height, and the woman stared up at him with newfound trepidation. " _I_ was dirt under her nails, and she would _never_ come to me begging for help. Ever. She would rather curse me to a hellish existence than sully herself with my detestable proximity."

Snape's yellowed teeth flashed. "She condemned me to _hell_ believing that no person could ever love me. Care for me. So convinced she was of this that she bet her soul on it— that no one could possibly love a dog to the Darkness and a corrupted, damned soul."

"So, I know you are not Lily Potter," Severus said coldly, "because Lily Potter couldn't have cared less about me. She would never have bowed to ask me for help. She would never have deemed to _touch_ me in all the years we knew each other. Ever. Not once. You. Are. A. Fraud."

"No, Sev! It's _**really**_ me! I need your _**help**_!"

"Severus," Sanguini purred as he came up behind him. "What has you so upset that you would leave our most enthusiastic company?" The vampire deliberately ran his fingers down Severus' neck and shoulder as he tilted the taller man's head to the side to place a kiss upon the other man's neck.

Severus' eyes fluttered, and his eyes filled with purple fire. "Sanguini, you are making it exceedingly hard for me to dress down this imposter with your roaming mouth."

"Perhaps, you would prefer it roam elsewhere?" the vampire speculated, his voice dripping with unconcealed lust. He trailed his fingers down Severus' arm just enough to tease before his fingers lifted off the skin of Snape's wrist. His attempt to walk away was answered by a swift and deep growl as Severus yanked the vampire back to him and engaged him in a heated snog.

Hermione took a bite of her pumpkin cheesecake. "Now, I'm jealous," she said, pouting even as her eyes held a spark of mischief.

The rather plain-looking woman who would be Lily looked back from Severus to Sanguini and then to Hermione who had her finger in her mouth as she licked the cheesecake from the tip in a very sensual manner. She didn't seem to notice as time stopped around them, as Sanguini let his nature loose as he bore down on Severus' throat.

Severus gave a cry of pleasure as his body shuddered, eyes rolling back as Sanguini both fed and gave pleasure in equal amounts.

"Lily" staggered backward as Sanguini's head tilted upward to show the glow of his eyes enhanced with purple infernal fire, yet he did not pause his feeding. Instead, his claws scraped against Snape's woolen robes and drew the other man closer.

Lily attempted to look elsewhere, but the darker-skinned man at the table had the nearby witch in a passionate embrace. The embrace would have been innocuous if a bit too public had a dark, forked tongue not slithered out against the witch's cheek and tickled her ear.

She staggered back, tripping over the fallen tea service, her nametag that brightly proclaimed "Hi, my name is Willow" with the Leaky's logo flashing across it bounced up and down.

As the demon grew more demonish in features, it seemed that the witch began to take on some distinctly inhuman characteristics as well. Curving horns poked out from her skull behind her ears— ears that were growing more pointed and less human by the second. Dark claws curved from her fingertips and spaded tails lashed and corkscrewed together as their bodies met together, and her claws scraped against the male demon's skin as a rush of lust and power blew out from between them. Their eyes glowed with a more intense purple, and the fire seemed to spread over to Severus and Sanguini—

Willow cried out as Severus' body jerked and twisted as he went down on all fours, his skin crackling as rivulets of lava oozed from the cracks. Sulfurous clouds jet from his nostrils as he snorted, lips pulling back from jagged teeth. Curving horns like a ram's twisted out and around the side of his head as twin tails lashed back and forth.

" _ **This**_ is what you have created."

Severus' voice boomed in her head.

" _ **This**_ is what you have caused."

"Demons walk the Earth because of _**you**_ , girl."

" _ **Your**_ wish."

" _ **Your**_ selfishness."

" _ **Your**_ desires."

"Created something that _**evolved**_ —"

The jaws of the beast opened, fiery slaver dripping from each fang.

"Reap what _**you**_ have sown."

The beast leapt, and Willow _screamed—_

The people in the Leaky started to whisper as the waitress screamed and clutched her head after dropping the tea service on the floor. She sat in the puddle of tea whimpering as the table near her froze in their attempt to eat their dessert.

"What's wrong with that girl?" one person whispered.

"Dunno," another said. "She's a squib, the poor dear. Not quite right in the head, seems like."

"Can you imagine trying to live without magic?"

"Poor thing probably can't even function," another said.

"What's her name again?"

"Oak something? Some kind of tree."

"Willow, Willow Greene, I think."

"Not even a Wizarding name," another voice said.

"Isn't that the Severus Snape sitting with Hermione Sanguini?"

"Is it? Oh, Sanguini. Mmm. Mmm. He's a looker."

"They say he's a vampire."

"Impossible, he's eating cheesecake."

"Maybe it's a different Sanguini," another speculated.

Meanwhile, Willow Greene held her head and whimpered as Tom came over to collect her and send her to the back to recover. "Sorry, folks," he said. "Pardon the interruption. She just gets a little tetchy sometimes. Things set her off."

Everyone went back to their meals, but if anyone noticed the dark-skinned man with sulfurous eyes in the back of the tavern licking his talon-like fingers clean of pumpkin cheesecake, they didn't seem to show it.

Jirrak'vu'nari smiled.

Everything was just as it should be.

* * *

Harry's teeth chattered miserably as he waited for the fire to catch up and heat the makeshift shelter he was currently hunkered down in the Kerguelen Islands in the southern Indian ocean, perhaps better known as the Desolation Islands.

Desolation, indeed.

 _Jingle_.

Harry sighed as the ring of butterbeer caps Luna had decorated the obvious rise in his trousers with clinked together. About all he could be thankful for was that the more miserable he felt about how he had gotten to this place in his life, the less he felt like he was going to have to permanently wear a jock cup to turn corners and pass-through areas without knocking over planters and hundred-year-old vases.

He'd royally fucked up, he admitted that now.

He'd tried to preserve an ideal that had never been there to begin with, save in his own head.

He'd tried to keep Ron close and steadily recovering from the horrors of the war by keeping him out of the vampire lairs.

He'd taken Snape's property and used it to help Ron's rehabilitation, but he had said nothing when Hermione had wanted to pursue a mastery and Ron had wanted her to stay at home and "be a proper witch." He'd claimed he wanted to marry Hermione so Molly would stop harping on him about getting married.

But Ron hadn't really wanted to settle down. Not at all. Quite the opposite, in fact.

And Harry had determinedly looked the other way in order to keep Ron close.

He'd covered for him with Molly because he didn't want to rock the boat.

He'd encouraged Hermione to keep working at the Ministry so they could all remain in each other's lives.

But it had only driven Hermione further away— right into the arms of that bloody leech: Sanguini.

And the vampires had made it abundantly clear that if anyone was safe from them it was Hermione Granger, their champion and the only one who had ever stood up for vampire rights in more than a token dealing.

The leeches _infuriated_ him.

The image of Ron's ecstatic face as he let a number of them bleed him at once— like a drug addict— haunted him still.

He didn't want to think of Hermione with Sanguini—

Leeches could never offer someone life, only death.

It had taken months to cure Ron of his psychological dependency on the blood replenisher he had used to prolong the orgasmic pleasure of being fed upon and that hadn't even included the addiction to being fed upon in itself.

Harry had secretly dealt with it until Ron could function adequately without the addiction, and it was only by some miracle that it had ultimately cured Ronald of his crippling grief after all of it was said and done.

Harry _never_ wanted Ron to be tempted again, so he had tried to clean out the "leech nests" of vampires that opened up clubs to mortals who wanted a taste of what they could offer.

But while he had been working so hard to undermine the vampires' rights, Hermione had been forced to take an apprenticeship with the only people that would take her: the vampires. And her work with them had unintentionally raised awareness that vampires were beings with rights, and that they had their own governing body to punish those within their kind that committed unspeakable acts that exposed vampire-kind to the world.

If he was honest with himself, Sanguini had been nothing but civil. Nothing but fair—

Sanguini never lost control like those Harry liked to believe were all of the vampire race. Harry had never met the Council. He had never known a vampire in any regard outside of official Auror business— and then he had always considered them nought but beasts with human faces.

The only reason he even knew Sanguini was a vampire was because of Slughorn's infamous parties. Old Horace had always been quite proud that someone like Sanguini deigned to patron his gatherings, and Harry had never liked how Sanguini's gaze scanned the crowd like a predator.

Or an Auror—

Harry didn't like sharing traits with a leech.

He didn't like them being able to govern themselves.

They couldn't be trusted.

Not when they manipulated people like Ron for a compelled blood meal.

 _He was willing,_ a small voice protested in the back of his mind.

_No! Ron wasn't in his right mind!_

_He had made up his mind. You just didn't like what he decided!_

_No!_ Harry jabbed the fire with his poking stick, annoyed.

But the more he argued against his inner voice, the harder and more pained he became as if his anatomy were punishing him for having a differing opinion.

As if to mock him further, the bottlecaps Luna had set over his perpetually erect cock to protect him from Nargles jingled as he grew harder. Luna had said she had put a charm on there to keep his cock from freezing and rotting off, but Harry wasn't sure how true that was or if she was just making him feel more conspicuous.

Harry hissed. It figured he'd be in the coldest of places and his erection was having no problems putting itself out there.

Even if nature was doing its best to frostbite his bits off out of sheer principle.

Luna and Rolf were out hunting for the Icy-Horned Sea Snorkack, and Harry was next to useless helping in that considering he couldn't even _see_ the original Crumple-Horned Snorkack let alone the Icy-Horned Sea one. That left him placed in charge of setting up camp and keeping the fires going.

No amount of heating, warming, or even burning spells seemed to help much with the bone-deep cold.

He wasn't sure how Luna and Rolf managed to cope, to be honest.

"You know, Harry, you're quite lucky to be alive," Luna's soft voice broke the silence and startled him. She came into the shelter, and it immediately seemed to become warmer. "Most people who become entangled with demons, unfortunately, end up dead and soulless, often very soon after their bargain is made. You not only survived being possessed, but you also survived foolishly insulting an elder demon and gaining the attention of a hell-fiend. You should be happier to be alive, I think," she said.

Harry jerked his head up as Luna and Rolf made themselves comfortable in the shelter. "How did you know about all of that?"

Luna tilted her head, seemingly baffled. "It's written all over your skin, Harry. Demons leave marks when they focus on you. It's not something everyone can see and even demons themselves have other senses they often use first, but once you do, you cannot unsee it. It's one way the more powerful can tell if other more powerful demons are currently involved. They have rules of engagement."

Luna frowned. "Hermione's skin is a tapestry, now. Many have focused upon her, but now that she has a formal bind, the main marks are permanent. I was a witness at her confirmation as a Summoner when the Ministry wanted to make sure demons weren't going to tear apart Britain attempting to impress her."

Harry felt the familiar stab of shame as the truth of his actions having caused Hermione to be in an impossibly complicated position— again. Yet, even as the relief he experienced as his loins finally began to relax, he thought of how that didn't excuse Hermione for betraying the human race by marrying a leech!

His cock grew impossibly hard yet again, and he winced in pain as the slightest movement caused his balls to throb in agony.

Luna sighed as she coaxed the fire up into the shapes of frolicking— what Harry could only guess, but he imagined they were supposed to be Snorkacks.

"Harry, there is nothing wrong with having good memories, but sometimes our minds create them for us rather than letting us face the truth," she said. "My mum died— and everyone said it was because she was experimenting with forbidden things— but the truth was, is—"

Luna looked into the fire. "She saved me from my own insatiable curiosity. My father and mother were arguing. I thought it was about her job and how he wanted her to spend more time with me instead of her boxes. I sneaked into her laboratory while they argued— the door open in a rare moment I could not resist but use."

"I tried to open one of her containment boxes. It was shiny. Beautiful. I thought I could hear it whispering to me how to open the locks. I opened it, and she threw herself in front of me to protect me. She saved me— at the expense of her life. Much like your mother did for you. To save me from the guilt of my killing my own mother, my father drew me into his web of the bizarre and the unseen, and it helped me cope. But I can look back on it now and see that despite the gift he had given me to see beyond what others see, it came at the cost of my mother's life and my father's heartbreak. He, too, held the blame for having chosen that moment to argue with my mother. Distract her. Allowing me to sneak in behind their backs."

"They say I wasn't to blame because I was young. I couldn't have known."

"But deep down, Harry, I did know, but I refused to listen to that truth and opened the box anyway. I let the voice telling me what I wanted to believe guide me instead of those I should have trusted more: my mum. Dad. I did know better. I had been smarter than others my age. Too smart, perhaps. Too curious."

Rolf reached over and gently squeezed Luna's hand, and she looked up, smiling at him.

"That's how you end up entangled with demons, Harry," Luna said quietly. "And like humans, there are many kinds of demons. The ones that trick you into letting them Bind to you, however, are the bottom feeders of demonic society— the like of Knockturn Alley. They whisper to you the half-truths that you want to believe more than anything so you will willingly open the box. I was both lucky and cursed that my mum saved me from a horrible death."

Luna caught his gaze and stared. "You were very lucky indeed that Hermione saved you from consummating a Bond between you and the demon before it could Bind to your soul. Had you done so, you would be spending the rest of your life in Azkaban as a demon summoner."

" _Hermione_ isn't living in Azkaban!" Harry reasoned.

"And who made it so, Harry? Whose actions directly made it so Hermione _had_ to Bind to a demon in order to keep the rest of Britain and beyond from becoming a supernatural battleground?"

Harry frowned.

"And who put Ronald in the situation that allowed him to, accidentally or otherwise, embed an ancient artefact in Hermione's body?"

Harry turned red as his emotions surged first in a habitual flare of temper, but then he drooped significantly.

"Why can't _I_ get what I want in life too?"

"Wrong question," Luna said as she tossed something into the fire to turn it purple. "Who are you really? What do you really want? Is it you that wants it? Or are you simply following along to what others think you should want?"

Luna shook her head. "In school we are often told what to learn, how to think, how to act, but when we leave school we have to learn who we are without our peers so we can be our own individual. Some people learn that early. But I think, Harry, that you still haven't figured out who you are without being the Chosen One, or the Man Who Conquered, the boy who could have been a Dark Lord, or the semi-adopted son of the Weasley family.

"I want my family," Harry said adamantly. "I want them together and happy."

"How happy do you think they'd be if you ended up in Azkaban? How happy do you think they are now when their father is being pursued by the Ministry for very _un_ -heroic behaviour with funds being funnelled off to pay restitution for your actions?"

"It's fine. I have the money," Harry said sullenly.

Luna's brows knit together. "Ever think that if you parents were alive you wouldn't have money at all? That it would all be gone? Then, how would you deal?"

"At least my parents would be alive! We'd be a family, and I wouldn't have had to get help saving my mum!"

"Do you think you are living the kind of life you want your children to have?"

"I would want them to do everything in their power to help their family if they were in trouble!"

"Even if they were guilty of committing a crime?"

Harry's face screwed up unattractively. "My mum _wasn't_ a criminal."

Luna stared into the fire and threw something into it. It flared up like Fiendfyre with a roar and gaping maw, and she threw something into that. It snapped up the offering with a clack, causing a shower of particles to land on Harry. "Maybe you should see the chains we forge in life."

Harry didn't answer as he fell backwards, unconscious.

"Think it will help him, love?" Rolf asked, giving Luna a tender kiss on the cheek.

"Maybe. The hardest truths to face are that our fondest dreams were, in fact, only dreams."

Luna reached out to pet the fire elemental in the fire. It cooed at her and rubbed up against her hand.

"I can only hope he is finally ready to see reason."

* * *

Harry found himself in the girl's lavatory on the second floor of Hogwarts— the Entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. He looked around, feeling quite disoriented.

A little bit of sun was peeking through the stained glass upper windows, and it hit a headful of long flaming red hair— so very familiar.

At first, he thought it was Ginny, but as the figure turned around, he realised it was his mother.

" _Mum?"_ Harry blurted.

Lily, however, didn't respond to him at all. Instead, she primly sat down in a perfectly drawn circle of runes and various strange squiggles with assorted gemstones placed in key places that seemed known only to her. She stared intently at a diagram scribbled in her journal and made a few adjustments.

She pulled a small bundle out of her robes and unfastened it, removing a lock of fine, oily black hair and carefully placed it in the center of the circle along with the parchment that was holding it. Familiar, spiky handwriting adorned the parchment— the unmistakable handwriting of the Half-Blood Prince.

Lily took in a deep breath, cast a spell while pressing her wand tip to her palm, and let several drops of her blood drip into the circle. Magic spread it across all the lines she had drawn as a chill of forbidden magic rose in a warded circle.

Horror landed like a boulder in Harry's stomach as he realised what was happening. What was _really_ happening.

" _ **No, Mum!"**_ he cried, rushing to push her out of the circle, break it, break the spell— anything.

But his body passed right through her just as if he were viewing the scene in a Pensieve.

"Jirrak'vu'nari, Demon Lord of Secret Desires, I summon you with my own blood and of my own free will to barter a soul to acquire my deepest desire," she called.

The room seemed to darken as dark smoke rose from the circle, a deep menacing chuckle echoing in the chamber.

Moaning Myrtle screamed and attempted to flee and tell the entire school, but a demon's fist encircled her ghostly form and squeezed.

Myrtle's cry was cut off abruptly as the demon smiled at her, all fangs. "You cowardly ghosts offend me with your clinging to unlife. You take no responsibility for your inabilities and failures in life, so you live half-lives pretending to live and thus taking your grudges out on the living. Cowards. You do not even have the courage to die like a _proper_ mortal."

Myrtle suddenly gagged and seemed to turn paler than ever as the demon's touch caused black veins of darkness to crawl throughout her ectoplasmic body.

The demon drew the ghost close to his face, his teeth bared in disgust. "Speak one word of my presence and who brought me here, and I will give you a body and kill it. Over and over and over again. I will make you linger. I will make you feel. You will _pray_ for death. But it will never last long. Do we have an understanding?"

Myrtle shook her head frantically, choking.

"I cannot hear you, ghost."

" _ **Yes!"**_

Jirrak'vu'nari snarled and flung Myrtle across the room, and for a moment, she had just enough solidity to crash hard against the far wall before slumping to the flagstone floor in a trembling heap. She whimpered piteously and then sobbed as her body slowly sank through the floor and away.

The demon rolled his shoulders, folding his wings against his back as he scratched his balls. "What did you want, Summoner?" he rumbled. He sniffed as if to taste the scent of her blood, his mouth opening as he inhaled. "And what do you offer me in return?"

" _ **No, mum!"**_ Harry cried, desperate to stop what was happening, but his hands and body kept falling through "nothing" even while it let him stand on the floor.

"I offer you a soul, unwillingly taken, as a gift of power for my request."

The demon growled, licking his teeth. "I'm listening."

"He will suffer long before his death, and it will be more to your liking," Lily said. Her eyes flicked to one of the tomes she had nearby— the chain from having been liberated from the restricted section still dangling from it.

Jirrak'vu'nari chuckled deeply. "And what would you desire in exchange for this well-seasoned soul, mortal? What could Jirrak'vu'nari offer you?"

Lily placed a moving photograph down in the circle: James Potter's face looking utterly cocky as he leapt off a broom adorned the picture clipped from the _Daily Prophet_.

"I want his complete devotion and undivided attention," she said. "I need him to believe there can be no one else for him but me."

The demon narrowed his eyes. "You loathe him, witch. Why make that one your love slave?"

"What better revenge for having treated me like I'm a nothing, a non-entity, than to have his every thought, all of his focus— his family, his wealth, his pureblood prestige focused on me? He believes me to be nothing special, but with your assistance, he will see me as his everything. And with a magical child borne of his fertility, there will be no escape by Wizarding Law."

"There is but one curse I can bestow upon your unwilling soul to harness its suffering to empower your wish, mortal," the demon said. "But should his soul ever find true love, true acceptance, all of your plotting will be for naught. Your soul will be forfeit in its place."

Jirrak's expression was utterly stoic. "And you will suffer as no other to make up for its loss."

Lily's face twisted in smug satisfaction. "He will _never_ find it. The only one he thinks he loves is _me_."

"I am obligated by rules to tell you that nothing is for certain with cursed souls. There is always an escape. While few, if any, ever find it, there will always be a possibility. You must realise this before entering into a Contract with me."

"I have no doubt whatsoever that he will never find someone stupid enough to truly love him."

"If you truly wish to make this Bind, Summoner, I will grant your wish for the price of a soul on the condition that if you do not provide me one in one year's time, I will take yours. If the soul escapes by finding true love, our Contract is forfeit, and your soul will be taken in compensation. Should you attempt to escape this Contract, I will take it out on every single member of your remaining line until your soul is mine or your line is dust, and I will take great enjoyment in letting them know _exactly_ where you are in the Afterlife to allow them to cast stones your way."

"I willingly agree to this Bind, demon, if you give me what I desire."

The demon outstretched his talons. "Take my hand, mortal, to seal this deal in blood and souls."

" _ **NO!"**_ Harry wailed, trying to throw things, disrupt what was happening— anything to stop what was happening in front of him.

Lily placed her hand in the demon's and he jerked it up and bit it, his tongue laving against the wound as he tasted her blood. Glowing patterns flowed down her body— the Marks of the Bind.

The demon's malevolent laugh seemed to echo from everywhere. "Bind the soul to me, mortal, and your wish will be granted."

Lily's smug, satisfied smile was the last thing Harry saw and then the scene before him faded to black even as he sobbed his heart out in impotent grief.

* * *

_**Harry Potter Opens New Clinic For Post-War Grief Counselling** _

_Harry Potter returned to Britain a few months ago and seemingly disappeared from the public eye until a week ago when he opened the first Post-War Grief Counselling Centre located within a new wing of St Mungos. It will be staffed by both mind healers and Squib Muggle psychiatrists to better help families face and deal with their emotions after the war._

_While not limited solely to war victims, the centre will be focused on many such persons first, as the demand for such outlets has driven many individuals and families to various extreme coping mechanisms. Coping mechanisms that families have tried to keep bottled up and hidden rather than admitting they exist._

_This ground-breaking collaboration between Muggle psychologists and Wizarding healers promises to help not only victims of the war but anyone who has been suffering alone in their own heads, all the while thinking they have no escape._

" _I want people to know they are not alone out there and that there is help available," an unusually solemn Harry Potter said in the opening interviews. "Sometimes, you have to face reality and it isn't pretty. It isn't what we want it to be, but that doesn't mean we have to suffer through it alone."_

_One of the more fascinating rooms of the new clinic is actually open to the public and houses an assortment of puffskeins, felines, Crups, bunnies, and other warm and furry non-judgemental therapy options where people can come in and just enjoy being in the company of creatures who don't need to know your life story to offer you their warmth and unconditional acceptance. The room, thanks to the expert assistance of Mr Neville Longbottom, is also a lush and elaborate indoor garden with natural lighting as well as enchanted ceilings to promote a more natural and organic setting._

_While Mr Potter's rather shady past has been brought into question multiple times in the last decade, we are happy to report that his latest project promises to help the Wizarding community heal their hidden wounds._

* * *

**End of Chapter 5**

* * *

**A/N:** Work is kicking my abused brain matter around, and I'm about as useless as the exposed root that everyone trips over. I truly hope you enjoyed the update, and I thank you for your understanding that life is just seriously draining right now. Please thank my lovely betas for tolerating my shenanigans,keeping me motivated, and staying up past their bedtime for science, er— writing.

Right.

Writing.


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